Chapter Text
Eijirou was going to be late.
It was a sunday night, spent much the same as usual (binge watching some series he had never heard of until that weekend and ignoring the books he probably should’ve been studying), when he realized that he was out of his favorite protein bars. Now obviously, this, unlike his studies, could not be ignored, so he left the school to go to the nearest supermarket and pick up some more.
This was probably his first mistake, because hours were getting dangerously close to curfew and he had decided to go out anyway. But Eijirou had never been one to back down from a challenge, even if the challenge ahead of him was imposed by his own stupid decisions. His second mistake was getting distracted. He couldn’t help it, there was so much stuff, and he had some money to spare anyway, what was the harm in buying a few more things?
Eijirou’s final mistake was not realizing how long the checkout lines were, and when he did finally realize, not putting his stuff back and waiting for tomorrow. So he waited in a very long checkout line, trying his best not to get antsy or impatient, instead focusing his thoughts on the day ahead of him tomorrow. He wasn’t sure what they were doing, and he couldn’t remember if Aizawa had said, but he was sure whatever it was would be interesting. Maybe he would get to spar with Bakugou? That would be fun. Sparring with Kaminari would be fun too, or maybe Mina. Really, sparring with any of his friends would be fun. God, he hoped there wasn’t a test tomorrow, that would suck ass. He might have to text Bakugou about that, he knew for a fact the rest of the squad wouldn’t know either.
He was pulled out of his train of thought when it was his turn to pay for the various things he had bought, silently thanking the checkout girl that she was moving quickly. It was only fifteen minutes until curfew, fuck, fuck, fuck .
Eijirou was jogging back to school instead of walking, hoping it would save him a little bit of time while also giving him a small workout before going back to his room and becoming a stagnant blob for the rest of the night. He was trying his best to stay out of the way of other people on the sidewalk, but unfortunately he made a critical error when a young girl came running from the opposite direction. Step right-no, left- right, dumbass! Before he knew it, he was stumbling backwards, only slightly off-balance, while the little girl was knocked flat on the ground. Shit, he thought, and immediately put down his groceries to help her up.
“Oh, my god, I’m- I’m so sorry, I should've looked where I was going, are you okay?” Eijirou extended his hand towards her, and she took it easily.
“I’m fine sir, it was my fault, I-” the girl couldn’t finish her statement before a woman walked briskly towards them, a look of exasperation on her face.
“Ichika, how many times have I told you not to run on the sidewalks? Look, you ran straight into this young man.” The woman, most likely the girl’s mother, placed her hands on either side of her daughter’s face. “What do you say to him, young lady?”
The girl groaned. “ Mom, I was just about to say sorry…” She turned to Eijirou and sighed. “I’m sorry for running into you.” It sounded rehearsed, and he got the feeling this had happened a few times too many.
Eijirou cracked a grin, and he didn’t miss the way the girl’s eyes widened at his sharp teeth. “Hey, it’s no big deal, if I couldn’t handle a kid running into me then what kind of a hero would I be?” The girl giggled, and he held out a fist for a fist bump, which she returned eagerly. “Now, I’m so sorry, but I really, really have to get back to school. Have a good night!”
He didn’t wait to hear their response before giving a quick wave and running down the sidewalk again. He only had about seven minutes, he had to get there in time, he had to. His thoughts felt jumbled, crowded, most likely a sign of his nerves building up. Funnily enough, running usually cleared his head, but the more he ran, the louder his thoughts became. There were too many of them, too many to understand. It almost hurt, like his head was being filled with water and he was drowning on the inside.
It didn’t matter. It didn't. He had made it to the school with two minutes to spare, and the nerves finally started to die down as he walked down the hall and to the elevator that would lead to his long-awaited dorm. Most people were probably asleep at the moment, which meant that Eijirou had to be extra quiet when walking through the halls.
Maybe they weren’t all asleep though, because he could still hear people talking. He wasn’t sure about what, but the words were there, muffled whispers in the back of his head. Weird. He would’ve expected more people to be sleeping right now, if not in their rooms. People usually weren’t visiting with each other at curfew.
When he finally, finally, got to his dorm, he could hear Bakugou through the wall saying, oh, shitty hair’s back, and Eijirou suppressed a smile. He hadn’t realized Bakugou even knew he was gone. It was...oddly endearing.
He thought once he closed the door, he wouldn’t be able to hear everyone talking, but he wasn’t that lucky. If anything, the voices seemed louder. Even Shoji was awake, his soft voice trailing through the walls as if they were paper. He had always considered Shoji an early sleeper, but maybe he was wrong. He could hear Bakugou too, which was even stranger, considering he knew for a fact how early Bakugou slept. Okay, so his classmates decided that sunday night was the best time to be social, whatever, he could deal. He was too tired to participate anyway. Sleep sounded much better.
He would end up regretting that mindset.
_____________
Everything is loud, so loud, as the fight raged around him. The villains were trying to grab him, touch him, but he wouldn’t let them. They would never fucking touch him again, he was sure of it. The explosions going off from his palms sounded more real than anything else, and it hurt how giddy he felt that he could finally blow things up again.
There were two hands reaching for him. One was a few feet away, the bony fingers resembling a gaping mouth that would kill him in one touch, and one at least a hundred feet in the air, with a voice shouting, “COME!”
The decision was made, that was his- no, Kirishima’s- whose hand was it? It didn’t matter. That was a hand he could trust. So he let loose, propelling himself through the air, reaching out, he could see the red eyes, the spiky hair, and-
He missed.
He was falling now, falling through the air into the outstretched hands of a villain, and for some reason the explosions in his hands wouldn’t work. The face that he trusted was further and further away, and he could hear screaming as he plummeted towards the ground. Were they his own? Were they from the boy who called for him? Both?
It didn’t matter. He was done for. He could feel it, the fingers wrap around his arms, his legs, his neck, why were there so many hands? His skin started to dissolve, and it hurt so much, it hurt, it hurt, someone please come save him, it hurt-
The beeping of Eijirou’s alarm is what had him jolting awake.
He could still feel them, the hands on his body, and he hardened and softened his skin just to make sure it was still there. His breaths came too quick, his chest heaved, and his skin was slick with sweat despite him feeling so cold.
What the fuck was that?
Of course, Eijirou had experienced nightmares before, but this was different. He wasn’t himself, he was- he was-
Bakugou.
At the thought of his name, Eijirou suddenly realized he could hear Bakugou swearing on the other side of the wall. He sounded so panicked, so scared, Eijirou wanted to help but he didn’t know how. He figured he’d be blasted out of the room even if he tried.
Shitty hair, he heard, and stifled a gasp. Where the fuck is Kirishima. He can help. He can help. Eijirou was about to bolt straight over to Bakugou’s room when he heard, no, are you fucking stupid? He’ll think you’re weak, then after a few moments, you are weak, dipshit.
Okay, that was definitely strange. Bakugou didn’t voice his weaknesses, well, ever. To hear him calling himself ‘weak’ loud enough for Eijirou to hear through the wall was the absolute opposite of anything Bakugou would do.
Well, despite what Bakugou seemed to think, Eijirou would never refer to him as weak, and it was clear that he needed help right now, more help than himself. Eijirou could worry about that dream another time.
He didn’t bother to change out of his pajamas before going to Bakugou’s room, knocking gently on the door as not to startle him in his obviously disturbed state. Fuck, he heard Bakugou say, I’m not ready. I’m not. Images of the dream Eijirou had last night flashed through his head, and it felt so wrong, like someone was pushing them in there. I can’t talk to him yet, Bakugou whispered (how was his whisper so loud?), Not after that. I’ll talk to him later.
What...the fuck?
Bakugou had literally just called for him, and now he was talking to himself loud enough that Eijirou could hear, even though he was in obvious distress. Did he have a concussion or something, was he just not able to keep his thoughts in his head? That would be a fine answer, except Eijirou couldn’t recall any moment yesterday where Bakugou had hit his head hard enough to even be bruised, much less concussed.
Whatever. Bakugou said he would talk to him later, so Eijirou would wait. He could be patient, especially if his friend was in trouble or hurt.
____________
It was when he got to the cafeteria for breakfast when he realized something was seriously wrong.
First of all, it was so loud it felt like the room was shaking. Everyone seemed to be yelling twenty things at once, and Eijirou winced as a headache started to set in. Second, even though he knew everyone was yelling and screaming, nobody actually looked the part. In fact, other than some casual conversation appearing to be happening, nothing seemed different. It looked exactly the same as usual. But it hurt, it hurt like hell, and he barely managed to make it to a table before it became too much, and he let his head fall on the cool surface.
It wasn’t long before Eijirou heard a familiar voice above the unbearable sound. Kaminari, he thought, relief washing over him. Maybe he can make everyone shut up.
“Yo, dude, you look like shit,” Kaminari teased, setting his tray down beside Eijirou. “The fuck happened to you?”
“Nothing, just...had a weird night, I guess…” he grimaced as Kaminari’s voice suddenly turned concerned and too many things came out of his mouth at once for him to understand. “I’m fine, I'm fine, it’s just- does it seem louder in here today?”
Eijirou turned to looked at Kaminari, who’s face had shifted into a frown. “No, man, it’s actually pretty chill.” A shudder went down his back as he processed Kaminari’s words, when it happened.
As Eijirou was looking at Kaminari, he heard him say, man, he really looks like shit, should I get recovery girl? A simple statement, really.
Kaminari hadn’t moved his mouth.
Eijirou’s eyes widened, and a sudden feeling of dread dropped over him like a sheet of snow. His mouth hadn’t moved. His mouth hadn’t moved. Which meant that either he was going insane, or somehow, some way, he had gained the ability to read minds. Basing off of how the morning had gone, the latter seemed like the best guess.
“I think I’m gonna go back to my room," Eijirou muttered before standing up and walking as fast as he could out of the room. He could feel Kaminari’s stare, worse, he could hear his worried thoughts as if he was right there. It wasn’t just Kaminari, either. As he passed people just walking in, he heard thoughts of, the fuck is up with him, and jesus christ, Kirishima looks like a fucking ghost.
Eijirou needed to get out of there. He needed to go to his room, at least until breakfast ended. Maybe once he was in class it would be quieter.
_____________
Class was not quieter.
It wasn’t nearly as bad as the cafeteria, but it still hurt the same. At least in class, most people’s thoughts were just repeating the lesson, save from a few people daydreaming and Kaminari’s thread of anxious thoughts about Eijirou’s wellbeing. Sweet of him to worry, he thought, but I really wish I didn’t have to hear it.
He decided to try focusing on Bakugou, which proved rather interesting. Bakugou’s mind was like a whirlwind, thoughts flying through his head so fast it didn’t seem possible. It almost sounded like background noise in his own head.
He still couldn’t focus on the lesson, but at least making a point to focus on Bakugou seemed to lessen the rest of the minds in the class.
Until the end of class anyway.
When Aizawa announced that they would be doing joint training that afternoon, Eijirou felt his blood run cold as the noise in class got louder. Joint training meant that everyone would be there, not just his class. Everyone would be thinking things, and saying things, and it would be so loud-
“Kirishima, hey, we’re going to the locker room now to change. You good?” That was Kaminari’s voice. His tone was light, but his thoughts were increasingly anxious. Eijirou couldn't do anything but nod and smile faintly.
___________
The locker room was probably the worst part of the day, worse than the cafeteria.
Everyone was thinking very odd things, whether it be about themselves or someone else, and it was all too much. He heard Iida wishing he was shorter and less bulky so he didn’t take up as much space in the room (what??), and he heard Todoroki having a mental stroke about whatever Midoriya was doing at the moment. He even heard Kaminari appraising Sero’s appearance, which Eijirou decided to file away into the ‘talk about to Kaminari later’ part of his mind.
He hated this so much, this feeling of invading everyone’s privacy. He felt dirty with everyone’s thoughts, and he couldn’t scrub them away no matter how much he wanted to. Eventually, he knew he was going to have to talk to Aizawa, but that could wait until after practice. Who knows? Maybe this fucking curse would be useful during training.
When everyone left the locker room to go to the training area, Eijirou could hear the oncoming thoughts of the rest of the school. He braced himself for the onslaught of noise, and when they arrived at the designated area, it was worse than he could’ve ever imagined. Everyone’s thoughts were absolutely booming, and there was no way for him to shut them up. They were all talking too, which made everything about 1000% worse. God, he wanted to go back to his room, where he wouldn’t hear them, he wanted to be away from all this, why did this have to happen today?
While Aizawa was still preparing whatever he had going on today, Kaminari decided to try and make conversation with him. “Dude, who do you think you’ll go up against? Do you even think we’re doing one-on-one sparring?”
“I dunno man,” Kirishima said, a little too loud, too forced. “All I know is that whatever we do, I ‘m gonna try my best to win this shit!” This was good. Acting like he wasn’t having an awful migraine was working, seeing as Kaminari grinned.
God, he doesn’t have to shout, someone thought angrily, like, we get it, you’re Kirishima, the ‘manliest man’, whatever. Just shut the fuck up already.
Eijirou suddenly felt his chest tighten, and he knew his face slipped from its smile because Kaminari’s worried thoughts returned. “Hey man, you alright? I know you had a weird night, but…” Eijirou wasn’t listening. What else were people saying about him?
Damn, that guy looks like he’s into some kinky shit, one person thought, and he crossed his arms uncomfortably over his chest. His costume wasn’t kinky. He’d shred anything if it wasn’t baggy like his pants or stretchy like his sleeves.
Damn, Kirishima looks fucked today. I hope I get to spar with him, that’ll be an easy win. There was another one. He wasn’t an easy win, he could still beat that piece of shit (whoever it was). Then another, Oh my god, Kirishima looks so fucking hot today, a girl thought, I wonder if he’d be into me even though he’s totally gay. Eijirou started to curl into himself. How did she know that? He hadn’t told anyone outside the squad, was he that obvious?
He tried to focus on Bakugou again, tune out everyone else, and for a moment, it worked. Bakugou’s thoughts were almost like the static of a tv; better than everything else he was hearing.
God, he’s staring at Bakugou again. Poor Kirishima, he doesn’t have a chance.
That thought broke him out of his haze. Who was that? Scanning the crowd with his mind while carefully keeping his eyes on Bakugou, he tried to single out who that voice was.
He looks like a puppy rejected by it’s master. How sick.
There. He found it. The thoughts were coming from Monoma, a class 1-B student. He’d been the target of Monoma’s ridicule once or twice, but he was never usually the one getting heavily insulted.
Man, he just cannot stop staring! He’s probably a closet perv or something, if the stupid costume says anything. Eijirou dug his nails into his arms. I bet Bakugou’s probably just using him like an errand boy or something. I would too, if somebody was that infatuated with me and I didn’t give a shit about them. Monoma needed to stop. He didn’t know anything.
Fucking fag.
Eijirou’s nails hardened, and he broke through the sleeves and into the skin. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to go. He had to go, now. He turned and walked as fast as possible, hearing Kaminari’s cry of “ dude, where are you going?” and catching Bakugou’s thoughts of, what the fuck happened to shitty hair? He needed to go.
___________
The locker room was empty. Quiet.
Eijirou couldn’t stop crying now that he was free of everyone’s thoughts. They were too much, and they were so cruel, he just wanted to disappear and have everyone forget him. Why didn’t anyone tell him his costume looked kinky and stupid, why didn’t anyone say that he was too obvious about his crush on Bakugou? Why didn’t anyone say anything? Why did they have to act so nice when it was obvious they thought he was an idiot?
The tears came harder.
He didn’t bother trying to wipe his face, opting instead to wipe the blood off his arms and ignore the stinging pain where he had stabbed himself with his own fucking fingers. How could he be so stupid? Now everyone was going to think even worse things about him, like hey, did you see that Kirishima just ran out of training before it even started? Hey did you see that Kirishima used his quirk on himself? Is he suicidal or something? Hey, did you see how Kirishima literally started crying over nothing? What a fucking dumbass.
Damn, the kid’s gonna need someone to look at that.
Eijirou’s head snapped up, and he looked around wildly before seeing Aizawa standing in the doorway. He was silent, but Eijirou could hear the thoughts streaking rapidly in his head. Trying to think of something to say to me, he realized, and he tore his gaze away in shame.
“Come with me,” Aizawa said, and made no move to leave until Eijirou managed to stand up. “We’re going to my office.” Shit. He should’ve known he’d be in trouble.
The office was small, minimalistic, the only decor being a few pictures of the same black cat. As Eijirou looked them over, he could feel Aizawa’s twinge of happiness over the pictures. Guess he has a cat, he thought as he entered.
“Sit down, Kirishima,” Aizawa sighed, and Eijirou obeyed. He felt like he was moving through water. “Listen, before you get worried or whatever, I need you to know you’re not in trouble.” That was a surprise. He skipped class, he should be in trouble. “I just talked to Kaminari, and he said you’ve been acting strange all day. Tired. Distant. He also said you ‘had a weird night’. Given your behavior today, I’m inclined to believe him. So, tell me. What happened?”
Eijirou was stunned. There were no malicious thoughts in Aizawa’s head, just concern and fear for the worst. He could feel fresh tears on his face, and he vaguely heard the thoughts of alarm as Aizawa noticed him crying. “Hey-” he said, reaching an arm over the desk in an attempt to comfort him, but he stopped just short of touching. Dammit, Aizawa’s mind rang, Hizashi would know what to do here. I’m no good at this, fuck. At the thought of Present Mic, there was a flood of memories involving him comforting a clearly distressed Aizawa, and an overwhelming feeling of fondness enveloped him.
“Are you- are you and Present Mic together?” Eijirou blurted, and instantly regretted it when he saw Aizawa’s eyes widen and heard a chorus of FUCK ring through his head.
“How did you- how…?” Aizawa sputtered, and Eijirou wrapped his arms around himself in embarrassment.
“I- I got hit with a mind reading quirk sometime last night,” Eijirou mumbled, and just saying it sent waves of relief through his body. “I think it was when I bumped into a little girl. She probably didn’t even know.” He rubbed his fingers over the punctures in his arms, and curled into himself a little more. “It was so loud, and- and everyone was so mean, I couldn’t hear myself think, I- I…” Eijirou couldn’t keep talking. It hurt too much just thinking about it.
“Jesus christ, kid,” Aizawa said softly, “I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did. That’s pretty awful.” When Eijirou looked up at Aizawa’s face, his expression and his thoughts were a strange mix of awe and condolence. “I think you should take the rest of the day off, and go see Recovery Girl about those scratches.”
Aizawa started to get up, but he caught his arm. “Wait, sir, can you- can you try your quirk on me? Maybe it’ll fix this, and I can go back-”
“No way are you going back to class in the state you’re in,” Aizawa deadpanned, and Eijirou deflated. “I can try to use my quirk on you, but even if it works, I’m not letting you back into training.” Aizawa sighed, and gently took Eijirou’s hand off his arm where he had forgotten it. “Look, you’re obviously not doing well today, and it would be against school rules and my own morals to let a sick kid participate in class.”
“I’m not-” Eijirou started, then stopped to scrub away some new tears pricking at his eyes. “I’m not sick. I just need to get rid if this stupid quirk.”
Aizawa’s expression didn’t change, but it was clear from the thoughts emanating off him that Eijirou was not winning this debate. “Let me try and remove the quirk’s effects first, then we’ll see how you feel.” He didn’t even need mindreading to see that was a lie. Aizawa wasn’t going to budge.
Still, Aizawa opened his eyes wide, and activated his quirk on Eijirou. He waited for Aizawa’s thoughts to disappear from his head, but it didn't happen. The quirk effect stubbornly remained. “ Dammit, ” Eijirou gasped, “Why can’t I just get rid of it?”
“I’m gonna take that it didn’t work,” Aizawa murmured, and despite his aloof expression, he could hear the disappointment and anger in his thoughts. When Eijirou didn’t respond, Aizawa stood up and placed a hand on Eijirou’s shoulder. “Let’s go to Recovery Girl.”
Eijirou grit his teeth, trying not to looked as crushed as he felt. “Fine,” he mumbled, “fine. Although, sir, can I ask you something?”
Aizawa didn’t say anything, but his mind said go for it. “How long have you and Mic been together?”
Aizawa stared at him, his mind blank. Clearly, that was not the question he was expecting. “Seven years,” he muttered, “and we’ve been married since the equality law was passed.”
Eijirou fought with himself for a few moments before working up the courage to say what he wanted to. “I heard Monoma call me a fag today. He didn’t- he didn’t say anything, he was just thinking it.”
Eijirou’s not sure he’s ever seen Aizawa look so murderous before. “What did you want me to do about it?” he asked, and his tone sounded dangerously cold.
“That’s not- I didn’t want him to get in trouble or anything, I just…” He trailed off, not sure what to say next. “I just wanted to know how to handle it when people say things like that.”
Aizawa hummed for a moment, thoughts circling quietly before he stated, “You shouldn’t have to handle it. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
“It’s not like it was the first time,” Eijirou joked, but there was no humor behind it. The joke wasn’t funny anyway.
Aizawa stopped walking, and turned to him with an unreadable expression but an all too readable mind. “I’m sorry, Kirishima,” he murmured, “please don’t ever feel afraid to talk to me or Hizashi about this. If someone says this to you at school, we will make them regret it.” Eijirou knew Aizawa was only his teacher, but from the feelings of bitterness and protectiveness coming off of him, he almost felt like a dad. Maybe that’s what Eijirou should call him. The class dad.
______________
Admittedly, Eijirou was glad he didn’t have to go back to training.
While he wanted to prove that he could do it even after a hard day, once he sat down on his bed, a wave of exhaustion washed over him and he knew this was probably for the best. Sleep came fast, and unlike his sleep during the night, this one was dreamless.
Fucking hell, I hope shitty hair’s okay. Aizawa said he’d be in his room.
Eijirou awoke to a string of thoughts, and it didn’t take him long to realize the loud mind was Bakugou’s. He could hear him coming up from the elevator, which meant Eijirou had very little time to even pretend to look presentable. He ended up deciding to fuck it, it’s not like Bakugou would care.
Fuck, what do I say? ‘Hey, I heard you had a shit day, so did I, wanna talk?’ No, that’s so fucking stupid. Fuck, how does Kirishima do this? I don’t know how to do this. As Bakugou got closer, his thoughts became clearer, and Eijirou almost laughed at how hard Bakugou was trying. After all the awful things he had heard today, it was nice to hear something good from someone so commonly negative.
Right as Bakugou got to the door, Eijirou opened it, and a flurry of thoughts raced through Bakugou’s head, one being, damn, even when he looks like shit he’s still cute.
What?
Before Eijirou got a chance to evaluate that, Bakugou started talking, really talking, not just his thoughts. “Hey, listen,” Bakugou started, and he could feel the waves of awkwardness coming off of Bakugou. “Aizawa said something about you having a shitty day, and Pikachu seemed worried as fuck about you, so I thought- I thought I’d try and talk to you. So, are you...okay?”
Eijirou blinked, then opened his door wider for Bakugou to enter, which he obliged to. He sat down on the bed, motioning for Bakugou to sit down next to him, which he did, though it was accompanied by slight hesitation and another rush of thoughts too quick for Eijirou to catch.
Say something, dammit, Bakugou thought, and Eijirou almost laughed again. Even when trying to have a heart-to-heart, Bakugou was still impatient.
“No, I’m not,” Eijirou finally responded, “I’ve had a really shit day.” He looked away from Bakugou, too afraid to see his expression, but he didn’t say anything. What happened, Bakugou’s mind prompted, but nothing came out of his mouth. “I got hit with a mind reading quirk last night. An accident, I think. And I had a fucking awful dream, then an awful morning, and absolutely fucking terrible training session before it even begun. So yeah, it’s been- it’s been pretty bad.”
Bakugou was silent at first, but his mind was not, swelling with anxieties and fear that Eijirou didn’t understand. What was he so afraid of? “A mind reading quirk? So like..you’re telepathic right now? Like right now? Aizawa didn’t fix it?”
Eijirou smiled bitterly. “Unfortunately not,” he replied, twisting his fingers in his hands, “I can hear everything your thinking at the moment.” There was a moment where Bakugou blanched, and Eijirou hurriedly reassured him with the statement of, “Don’t worry though, your thoughts are so fast I can’t even keep up. I only catch little bits of it, the rest is kinda like white noise.”
He heard Bakugou relax at that, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw him relax as well. “That’s- that’s good,” he said, voice strained, “You should be studying more, maybe then you could think as fast as me.” It was a weak attempt at a joke, but it made Eijirou snort with laughter.
“You know, it’s funny,” he mused, “that dream I had last night was really weird, and I woke up to you swearing. Would you happen to know anything about that?” When Eijirou turned to look at him, his face had paled considerably.
“This isn’t about me,” Bakugou grumbled, but they both knew Eijirou could just read his mind and see that he did, indeed, know something about it.
“It was your dream wasn’t it? That was your nightmare.” He didn’t even have to say it, they both knew it was true. “You should’ve came to me, I heard you thinking about it,” he murmured, “You know I would never call you weak.”
“I know,” Bakugou said, voice barely above a whisper. “But like I said. This isn’t about me. I came here to make you feel better, not the other way around. Think about yourself for once, dammit.” In his mind, Eijirou could hear, please let me help you. I want to help.
“Okay,” Eijirou said, voice breaking, “okay. I’ll try.” Maybe he was tired, maybe he had a deathwish, or maybe he was just that dumb, but it was then that he decided to lean into Bakugou’s arm. When he did, the speed of Bakugou’s thoughts increased tenfold, and feelings of embarrassment and affection suddenly ached in Eijirou’s chest.
Despite all that, Bakugou didn’t push him away, instead gingerly putting an arm around his shoulders to give him a hug. Eijirou hoped that Bakugou didn’t need mindreading to see he was grateful for the contact.
They sat in silence like that for a long time, and at some point Eijirou fell asleep. When he woke up, Bakugou was still there, asleep, and he couldn’t hear any nightmares or even dreams disturbing him.
He knew once Bakugou woke up, they would have to talk about what Eijirou heard, such as Bakugou finding him cute, but for now, this was nice. At least one good thing came out of this awful fucking quirk effect. And maybe, in at least one way, he was glad that he had it that night.