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Eijirou thought he was over this; that he already let out most of his teenage angst during middle school. And yet after the first three months of his second year it all comes crashing down again. Maybe it starts when their classes get mixed up and suddenly he’s separated from most of his closer friends. But it really shouldn’t be a problem, he gets along with the other students, is friendly with most of them. It’s not enough. They talk to him but really they all have their groups of friends sorted out already.
Suddenly he starts getting left behind, starts being one of the last ones alone when it comes to group projects, sits by himself during study periods. It’s fine at first, after all he sees his old friends during lunch and at the dorm but. He doesn’t exactly know when it started but he stops understanding their inside jokes. He misses out on too much of their shared day, has to ask about each and every funny story they reference. And every time there’s that lump at the back of his throat and that anxiety bubbling up in him that he’s annoying. That he should stop asking. That they’ve got their own lives goddammit and he shouldn’t pry about every stupid details. So he stops asking. Instead, when they make a joke he doesn’t get or ask a question he doesn’t even know the context for, he just smiles faintly and shrugs his shoulders. And no one ever offers up another explanation so it’s really better like this, right?
For the first time in almost two years Eijirou starts feeling lonely. Then their first exam season starts. He knew classes would get harder but really it’s more than he expected. Suddenly every bit of his free time is cramped with homework and studying and training. He starts staying behind in the classroom to cram during lunch but it’s so frustrating because nothing makes sense and without the others he doesn’t even have anyone to complain about studying with. Second year also brings an end to his study sessions with Bakugou.
He doesn’t reach out to the blond for help so it’s his own fault really, he tells himself, and they don’t even have the same classes and material anymore. It still stings like hell, especially when he sees Bakugou starting to act less and less openly hostile with his other classmates. Eijirou tells himself he isn’t jealous. After all it wouldn’t be fair, he always wanted Bakugou to make more friends. He sees Uraraka sling her arm around Bakugou’s shoulder, whose usual scowl seems to lighten up a bit, and Eijirou quickly shoves the soft part of his hand between his teeth and bites down hard. It’s not enough to draw blood but the marks stay for a few hours to remind him that he should just mind his own business for once.
Almost halfway through the term sleep deprivation starts to strike. Studying alone means staying up until 2 or 3am every night, evidence in for of empty energy drink cans strewn all over his usually tidy room. Normally he’s a morning person but now his eyes are bloodshot and stinging when he gets up. More and more often he has to skip his morning run in favor of completing the last pages of homework or dragging himself into the shower, water turned cold in an attempt to at least shock him awake a bit more. It all barely helps and his concentration during class gets worse with every passing week.
He wishes he could just cry about it the way he would have last year but most nights he’s too exhausted for that.
-
“Kirishima?”
He hadn’t noticed that he’d started nodding off until the sudden voice startles him awake. He blinks once, twice, then looks up to see Yaoyorozu in front of his desk. Her eyebrows are pulled together slightly. He blinks again and slowly pulls his mouth into a lopsided smile but even he knows that it probably looks strained at best.
“Yea?” he asks and cringes at the way his voice cracks.
“Are you alright?” Yaoyorozu asks and leans her head to the side. The concern in her voice is obvious even through the fog that’s started gathering in Eijirou’s brain. “It seems as if you have been spacing out during class lately.”
It takes him a beat too long to form a coherent response and Yaoyorozu doesn’t miss it.
“I’m fine,” he finally forces out. His smile stretches further until it starts looking a bit like a grimace. “Just been a bit tired with exams and everything lately.”
Her shoulders relax a bit at that response.
“Of course,” she says and nods in understanding, “The workload has heightened significantly since our last term.”
He laughs sheepishly and raises one hand to scratch at the back of his neck.
“I already wasn’t great at studying in the beginning,” he adds.
Yaoyorozu hums and slowly taps her index finger against her lower lip.
“You know,” she finally says, “if you need help with anything you can always ask me.”
It catches him more by surprise than it probably should. He knows Yaoyorozu has been tutoring a bunch of people since last year but. Well, maybe this is the first time anyone’s reached out to him in a while and maybe that gets to him just a bit more than it usually would.
“Thank you, Yaoyorozu,” he says and for a second his grin comes naturally.
-
It doesn’t hold for long. He knows he should reach out but he already has his notes sorted out and, well, if he doesn’t spend all his time playing video games with the others like he did before he actually starts getting most of his work done. Eijirou sits alone in his bed, the clock slowly creeping closer to midnight, as he stares intently down at his calculus textbook.
Almost subconsciously he nips at his left hand while he scribbles into the book with his right. It isn’t until there’s a sharp pain and a metallic taste in his mouth that he pulls his hand away and stares down at it. There’s a scrape at the base of his thumb, not deep but just enough for little droplets of blood to well up at his skin. Without a second thought he wipes it off on his boxer shorts and- stops in his tracks.
For a heartbeat his eyes are just fixed on the streak of red on his shorts before a sudden bout of nausea wells up in his throat. Immediately he squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to think of blood on his legs, of the scars hidden under his clothes, most long faded but some still pink. His last year was good but even that wasn’t without relapses.
His breathing starts getting heavier as suddenly the pain in his hand is getting overwhelming, or maybe not the pain itself but just the presence of the wound and everything that comes with it. He’s just aware enough to be glad that he’s banished everything sharp from this room. Everything sharp except for his own quirk and he squeezes his eyes shit tighter at the thought.
It’s not a conscious decision but suddenly he’s standing in the middle of the room and moving towards the door and breathing is still so hard and he doesn’t know if this is a good idea, it’s probably not, at all, but it’s too late and he’s already out in the hallway anyways. The door in front of him looks exactly like the one to his own room. He tries to catch his breath, cradling his injured hand to his chest like something small and fragile, a bird maybe. Maybe he’s becoming fragile, Eijirou thinks and another wave of nausea rushes through his stomach.
The door opens before he can even knock or change his mind and retreat.
“I can hear you thinking through the fucking wall,” is what Bakugou greets him with before his eyes drop down to Eijirou’s bleeding hand and his eyes narrow. “What the hell happened.”
It’s not exactly a question and he doesn’t exactly have an answer so Eijirou just settles for a shrug.
Bakugou let’s out an exasperated noise, something that could probably almost be described as a snarl, before reaching out, grabbing the front of Eijirou’s shirt and pulling him into the room. The movement catches him by surprise and Eijirou almost topples over. Bakugou catches him by the shoulder at the last second an keeps him upright while his other hand reaches around Eijirou to slam the door shut.
Eijirou winces a bit at the sound and when he opens his eyes again it’s to find Bakugou staring straight at him with something new in his eyes. He can’t quite make out what it is and the expression is gone in an instant, replaced by Bakugou’s typical brand of annoyance.
“Explain,” he barks out and gestures at Eijirou’s hand.
The other boy winces again before shrugging his shoulders and moving further into the room.
“I just-“ he starts, then realizes he really doesn’t know how to explain this, “I just accidentally scraped it but I-“ his breath hitches in his throat again, “-I just really didn’t want to be alone.”
He stays with his back turned towards Bakugou and waits for the inevitable yelling but it doesn’t come. Slowly he turns around and crosses his arms in front of his chest, curling his shoulders inward. Bakugou is staring at him again with that expression he doesn’t know how to read before his eyes flicker downward and- oh. For a moment he’d forgotten that he’s only wearing boxer shorts, not long enough to hide the pale scars littering his thighs. Finally he sees recognition in Bakugou’s eyes and his own breathing speeds up again.
He has to clasp his hands together tightly to keep them from shaking. Bakugou’s eyes wander up again and for a second he look almost confused. Then he sees Eijirou’s hands that are slowly turning pale from the pressure and the corners of his mouth immediately tug down into a frown again.
“Stop that you idiot,” he growls and in one swift movement steps towards him to reach out and pry apart Eijirou’s hands. The touch is firm but much more gentle than he’d ever expected from Bakugou and it’s Eijirou’s turn to be surprised.
He looks up and suddenly Bakugou’s face is close, far too close to his own. He can feel himself go red the same second that Bakugou lets go of his hands again and draws back a little. Eijirou let’s out a breathless little laugh.
“I’m fine,” he breathes out, a desperate attempt at reassurance that only makes Bakugou’s scowl deepen.
“Like hell you are,” the blond mutters and, again, grabs Eijirou’s shirt to drag him along towards the bed. When the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed he automatically sits down and stares up at Bakugou a little dumbfound but the other has already turned away again and is rummaging through the drawers of his desk.
Finally Bakugou pulls out a pack of bandaids and a tissue. He grabs a water bottle and pours a bit on the tissue before striding towards Eijirou again before dropping down until they’re at eyelevel.
“Gimme your hand,” he says and doesn’t wait for a reply before reaching out and pulling Eijirou’s hand towards himself. He firmly dabs away the last drop of blood before pressing one of the bandaids over the wound.
“Oh,” Eijirou breathes out, “Thank you.”
Instead of replying Bakugou just grunts and stands up again.
“Don’t say that, just don’t fucking do it again.”
Eijirou nods slowly and looks down on the bandaid on his hand. It seems to be for little kids and there are tiny skulls printed on it. He smiles slowly and looks up again, his face stretching into a grin.
“Still thank you,” he repeats and laughs when Bakugou throws a pillow at his head.
“Get the fuck out of my room!”
-
The closer they get to exams the heavier Eijirou’s bones seem to get. Between classes and studying and trying to get at least 4 hours of sleep per night there’s not much time for anything else in between. The first thing to be cut out are the communal meals. Instead of going down to the kitchen where he often ends up lingering far longer than he should Eijirou starts stacking up on snacks for his room that he can eat while poring over his books. He barely has time to work out anymore aside from their required training during class.
He’s sitting in bed again, curled down to get a closer look at that damned formula in his chemistry books when he suddenly feels the way his stomach rolls and he stops dead in his tracks. When he straightens up and focuses there’s still a weight on his stomach and hips that, as far as he knows, wasn’t there before. He prods and pulls at his skin a bit before coming to the realization that he’s slowly becoming soft.
It’s not the same type of nausea as when he saw the streaks of blood but when his eyes wander towards the assortment of candy wrappers strewn over his bed he can’t help but feel a bit disgusted. He throws a look at his textbook, then at the clock and decides that 11pm isn’t too late for a bit of a nightly workout. He gets up and pulls on his workout clothes, all in frankly hideous neon shades. The shirt is a bit tight and when he looks down he sees the way his stomach sticks out a bit, the way the waistband of his pants dig into a layer of fat that wasn’t there before.
He quickly sneaks out of his room and down the stairs all the way to the basement. At some point during the summer the school installed a small gym right next to the laundry room and let’s out a sigh of relief as he steps on the treadmill. He can’t put it on the level he did a few months ago but that’s okay, he tries to tell himself, it’s fine to run slow if he just runs a bit longer in exchange.
He doesn’t stop until his legs are shaking so badly he can barely stand and his hair is clinging to the back of his neck in an uncomfortable sweaty mess. By the time he stumbles back upstairs it’s too far past midnight to still take a shower without waking everyone up so he collapses onto his bed and waits for the sweat on his skin to dry. He feels lighter and at the same time worse than before and for the first time in weeks he cries through his frustration.
-
Everything aches when he wakes up the next day. He lies on his back for a while and stares at the ceiling until his stomach grumbles loudly in the silence of his room. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to tell himself that the feeling isn’t satisfying.
He finally heaves himself out of bed and drags his heavy body into the shower. He takes longer than usual, leaning against the shower wall and willing his head to stay awake. When he comes out he stops in front of the mirror and stares at himself. Even his face got a bit rounder but mostly he just sees the shadows under his eyes, etched deep into his skin, a testament of almost permanent tiredness. He brings one hand up to tug at a strand of his hair. It’s gotten dull and a bit too long and his roots are starting to show but just for once he really can’t bring himself to care. Instead of styling his hair as usual he just shoves it all under a beanie and hope no one will call him out on the dress code violation.
The rest of the day goes by in a haze and in the afternoon he barely remembers what happened in class. It’s 10pm by the time that he realizes he never filled his grumbling stomach and for once he falls asleep early and more exhausted than ever before.
-
It goes for a week before Bakugou corners him. They’re getting back from class when the blond grabs his elbow and pulls him into his room again. Eijirou doesn’t think he would have the strength to resist even if he wanted to.
“What the fuck is going on with you,” Bakugou all but yells at him and Eijirou doesn’t even flinch at the anger in his voice.
“Why do you even care.”
“You’re my fucking rival. I gotta beat you to be the best, you fucking idiot, can’t do that if you drop dead first,” the blond barks out without hesitation.
Eijirou laughs drily and focuses his eyes on a stop on the wall just to the left of Bakugou’s head instead of looking him in the eyes.
“I thought you don’t bother fighting weak people, it’s better if I just keel over then,” he bites back. Sleep deprivation and starvation aren’t the best combination for his brain but he doesn’t really care anymore. “I’m not worth fighting against anyways.”
For a second Bakugou stares at him, speechless, then he let’s out a string of colorful curses and paces through his room, once, twice, before coming to a halt in front of Eijirou. Bakugou grabs his shoulders and pulls at him until he has no other choice than to look at him.
“You’re my best fucking friend, you hair-for-brains idiot,” he snarls, “and if you’re running yourself into the ground I gotta know what the fuck is going on.”
It’s the last straw. Before Eijirou knows what he’s doing he’s got both his arms wrapped around Bakugou and is crying against his shoulder. What’s more of a surprise is really that, after a second, Bakugou relaxes into the embrace and let’s his own hands rest between Eijirou’s shoulders.
He doesn’t know how long this goes but by the time he finally stops crying there’s a headache building behind his eyes and he’s hiccupping slightly. He stays with his face pressed against Bakugou’s shoulder until his breathing is somewhat back to normal. Only then does he slowly draw back and let go of his friend.
Bakugou is scowling as usual but he’s not looking at Eijirou, instead his eyes are trained on the floor somewhere. There’s a wet spot on his shirt from Eijirou’s tears.
“I’m sorry,” Eijirou finally gets out. His voice is so hoarse it’s barely more than a whisper. “And thank you.”
“I told you to stop saying that,” Bakugou retorts, “I’m your fucking friend, you’re supposed to tell me when you feel like shit.”
“I know,” he admits quietly, “I just forgot for a while.”
Bakugou gives him a side glance and then immediately looks away again.
“Well then don’t fucking forget again.”
Eijirou is stunned for a second before he throws back his head and laughs brightly.
“Thanks, Bakugou. I won’t forget,” he let’s out a breath and then inhales deeply,
“Hey, you think you could help me with some homework?”
-
It doesn’t make everything better right away but study sessions with Bakugou are a start. It’s not easy to pull himself out of his own head, tell himself it’s okay to join his friends for lunch even if he doesn’t understand all they talk about.
They don’t mind explaining. Sometimes, he just has to ask.
He doesn’t have to be best friends with everyone in his new class and sometimes just being friendly with each other is enough.
-
They’re sitting across from each other on Eijirou’s bed, their knees almost touching, as he leans down a bit to read Bakugou’s scribbled notes. When he looks up it’s to find Bakugou intently staring down at him. Eijirou quirks a smile and a faint pink blush spreads over Bakugou’s face although he doesn’t look away.
“Hey,” Eijirou breaks the silence, “Can I kiss you?”
Bakugou doesn’t hesitate for even a moment before bringing his hands up to the sides of Eijirou’s face and pulling him closer.
“Fucking finally,” he mutters, their faces almost touching.
Eijirou surges forward to break the last bit of distance and presses their lips together.
It’s a bit of a mess. Neither of them know how to turn their heads and their noses keep bumping. Eijirou also bites Bakugou who lightly know their foreheads together in retaliation. They finally draw apart, slightly breathless. Eijirou tries to fight back a giddy grin. He gives up after a few seconds, instead hiding his face in the crook of Bakugou’s neck and wrapping his arms tightly around the other boy’s waist.
“Hey,” he starts again, his voice muffled against Bakugou’s shirt, “You wanna be my boyfriend then?”
“Of fucking course,” Bakugou grumbles back and pull him even closer.
Sometimes, Eijirou learns, he just has to ask.