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Tamaki’s hand falters before he can reach for the door handle. He knows it’s ridiculous, he doesn’t understand where this fear came from. Hours prior they were fighting for their lives and the life of a small little girl.
Tamaki was told Eri had been taken into EraserHead’s custody so he could control her quirk. That was for the better. The tension was still palpable in the air from all of them. He felt it in the way Red Riot’s shoulders sagged and his feet shuffled out of the wreckage, FatGum right behind him.
He had seen Mirio too, Lemillion rather, on the battlefield. Tamaki had seen him walk out, bruised and bloody. He was limping, but as soon as he saw Eri sitting with Deku his smile lit up and Tamaki felt all his fears slide away.
Lemellion hadn’t said it when they were talking in the rush of the aftermath, but he had lost his powers. Tamaki had to find out from the last surviving members of that fight. They had all been rushed to the hospital together, yet Tamaki hadn’t seen Mirio until now.
Sir Nighteye was still in intensive care, they weren’t sure if he would make it, but they were doing their best in surgery right now. Tamaki knew Mirio would need someone there for him. So why couldn’t he open the door?
He let out a sigh. This needed to happen. He needed to see Mirio, then maybe he could do something to make Mirio laugh. Tamaki cursed himself for not thinking ahead of time. If he had he could’ve brought some turkey and done the trick with his quirk and the turkey beard that always made Mirio laugh.
Tamaki shook his head to clear his thoughts. This was no time to doubt. Mirio would never doubt himself before he goes to cheer someone up, so why should he? Tamaki made his final decision to open the door.
The handle was cold and the atmosphere around him clung to his skin like a lifeless monster trying to keep him in place. Tamaki mustered up his courage and pushed through.
The door creaked open. Mirio was laying down, his eyes closed, bandages covering his arms and chest. His hair was down, ruffled at his bangs where the gel he had applied that morning lost it’s form.
Tamaki felt a sense of relief that he was asleep. This might give him more time to think of something to say. He should say something, right? He was Mirio’s best friend if anyone would know what to say it would be Tamaki. Somehow, though, he didn’t have anything. He only had his presence. He hoped this time it would be enough for Mirio.
He took a deep breath and let it out. Tamaki’s eyes wandered and he absently picked at the flowers that someone had left on Mirio’s bedside.
“Uraraka left them,” Mirio’s deep voice broke the silence and Tamaki’s attention whirled to him. Mirio wasn’t looking at him, but at his hand which still held onto one of the flowers. “She said that yellow and white made her think of me so she got them.” Tamaki looked once more to the flowers, dandelions some of them, others Tamaki couldn’t place the name of, but they were full, thin petaled and beautiful. “She was in the hospital gift shop of all places, getting Midoriya a sickbed gift too. Then she saw those and…” Mirio’s voice broke. He didn’t sob, but Tamaki heard him mentally hesitate.
Then it hit him. He wasn’t rambling because he wanted Tamaki to know about the flowers, he was rambling because he wanted to distract himself from the truth. But it caught up with him anyway. Tamaki didn’t miss the way his throat bobbed up and down. He was smiling, but he couldn’t hide the way his eyes watered.
Tamaki didn’t say anything. He gazed into Mirio’s eyes and knew that he understood all of Tamaki’s feelings in a single look. Instead, Tamaki squeezed Mirio’s cold hand. He felt the tip of Mirio’s bandages that ended on his wrist. The reminder of the fabric made Tamaki’s heart skip a beat.
“It’s okay,” Tamaki muttered out when he felt the faint return of Mirio’s grasp.
“Tama-” Mirio gasped out. His eyes were filling with every second and Tamaki was surprised the tears weren’t falling yet. Tamaki shook his head, bringing his other hand on top of Mirio’s in an attempt to comfort him more.
“I know,” Tamaki replied. He felt his bottom lip wobble, but he refused to let himself break this time. In all the years they had known each other Mirio only ever cried when he was happy. Never during a hard time, or a lost fight.
Mirio turned his head, bringing the back of his free hand to cover his eyes. He ground his teeth and hissed in a breath. “I lost my dream…” His voice was hoarse and his words were slurring with tears.
Tamaki’s heart ripped open inside of him. He felt it break like a plate of china. Each crack was so whole and complete that he felt he may never piece them all back together again. This may be the one thing that keeps his heart broken, after the millions of times Mirio had pieced it back together for him.
Tamaki shook his head. He took a deep breath in, holding back tears. “No,” he began. Mirio lifted his arm just enough to look at him. “You wanted to save a million people, Mirio, but you’ve already saved me a million times. You’re my hero ,” he said. “You’ll always be my hero.”
To his surprise Mirio chuckled. It was weak and tactless, but it was there. “A million is a lot of time to save someone, Tamaki.” He could almost hear the self doubt forming in Mirio’s voice. His arm dropped back to his side.
“And that’s how many times you’ve saved me! Mirio, you’re already a great hero. Eri would agree. You gave her her life.”
For a moment, Mirio’s lip wobbled and he looked ready to cry again, but he took a deep breath and let it all out. “Is she okay?”
Tamaki smiled as he nodded. “Yes, she’s with EraserHead so he can control her quirk.”
Mirio nodded, looking content with that answer. He stared at the ceiling for a long time before asking, “And Sir Nighteye?”
“Intensive care.”
Mirio bit his bottom lip. Tamaki was so lost in Mirio’s grief that he did something he never would have done normally. He reached out and cupped Mirio’s cheek in his own. His cheeks were damp and the tears felt cold.
Mirio looked up at him helplessly. He had never seen that kind of anguish, that kind of desperation in Mirio’s eyes before. He was desperately searching Tamaki’s face for something. By the way he sat up and pulled Tamaki into a hug he couldn’t be sure if Mirio had found it.
What he was sure of was Mirio’s tight grip on him. His arms nearly crushed Tamaki’s lungs, and his head dipped into Tamaki’s shoulder. Mirio must have needed this. Something to hold him down.
Tamaki wrapped his arms around Mirio and wondered if he could feel the way Tamaki’s heart beat out of control. If he could, did he wonder what it meant? Tingles went down Tamaki’s spine and he wanted to cry out because this was the only thing he ever wanted to do when Mirio was upset.
It was so often he would be Tamaki’s rock. So often that he would provide Tamaki with an ear to talk to and arms to lean into. There was something about it being the other way around that made Tamaki’s heart explode with admiration. Before now he hadn’t even known he could feel so many things at the same time. Mirio always seemed to bring him to new experiences, for better or for worse. The only thing Tamaki needed was to know that Mirio would be there throughout it all.
He wanted his dreams to mirror Mirio’s. He had since he was little. Mirio’s dream of saving people soon became Tamaki’s dream as well. They were going to be great heroes together. But now...Tamaki hugged Mirio tighter, rubbing circles into his back as his chest heaved with sobs.
Now Tamaki was going to do everything in his power to make sure Mirio could still achieve his dream. They were going to achieve it together. Because Mirio’s dream was Tamaki’s dream and Tamaki’s only dream soon became Mirio Togata in his arms.