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The cheers from the crowd echo in Eijirou's ears. It's a familiar sound by now, as familiar as the smile plastered on his face as the platform lowers him beneath the stage, signaling the end of yet another concert. Eijirou continues to strain his cheeks, raising his hands in one last wave and a finger heart.
The fans' screams go on even after they're out of sight, but they turn to white noise in Eijirou's mind. Beside him, the other members of Plus Ultra are groaning, wiping sweat off their faces and stretching their tired muscles. As physically exhausted as they are, they're still buzzing with concert energy—Denki and Katsuki are arguing once again over who can rap faster, Izuku is chattering about their performance, and Shouto is listening to him with a rare honest smile on his face.
Usually, Eijirou would join them. He would clap everyone in the back, gush about the fans singing along to every song, and top it all off with a leader speech about their hard work paying off. He would be happy and basking in the remaining thrill of being on stage.
But not today.
Someone hands him a towel as he steps off the platform.
"Thanks," Eijirou mutters without paying attention. There's someone holding a fan against his neck, hands kneading his shoulders, a bottle of water being pressed to his lips. Eijirou accepts it all on auto-pilot, knowing that his body needs it, but his thoughts are still on the performance.
No matter how hard he tries to avoid it, his mind keeps going back to the moment he made a mistake. One misstep. That's what it'd taken to get him off their dance formation for a second, tripping over his own feet to get back to his place without disturbing the others. He wasn't sure if any of his groupmates had noticed—he'd been at the back, thankfully—but the fans.
The fans, with their thousands of phone cameras pointed towards him, with rapt eyes ready to dissect every second of footage uploaded on the internet, they wouldn't have missed it. At this very moment, as Eijirou sits down on a chair and presses the heels of his palms against his eyes, his mistake must be spreading all over social media. He can already imagine the comments, the disappointment, the snickers from those who'll say they saw it coming. And he can't blame them.
What kind of idol is he if all he can do is let his fans down?
"Earth to Eijirou." Someone pokes his cheek. Eijirou lowers his hands, blinking out of his stupor to Denki standing in front of him. "You okay there, man?"
"Yeah. Just tired." Eijirou forces another smile that comes out as more of a grimace.
Denki stares at him with a wary expression. For a moment, Eijirou's certain he's going to call him out, but all Denki says is, "C'mon, it's time for the group photo."
Right. Eijirou had almost forgotten their customary post-concert photo. The rest of the group is already gathered a few steps behind Denki, talking to some of the staff and casting curious glances towards Eijirou.
Seeing them all together makes Eijirou's heart clench. He conceals it by pretending to adjust his shirt as he joins them, and when Izuku asks him if he's okay, he gives him the same answer he'd given Denki and ignores the way Shouto and Katsuki's gazes burn into the side of his head.
"Ready?" the photographer asks.
They all huddle a little closer, raising peace signs and finger hearts, smiles in place with no apparent effort.
Except, for Eijirou, it's the most difficult thing he's ever had to do. He's already drained from over two hours on stage, and he's never had much energy for acting in the first place. He shifts uncomfortably as the flash goes off.
"One more, one more," the photographer says, raising the camera again.
Being there in the middle of his group mates, does he stand out like a sore thumb? They're all so talented. Izuku's vocals are like silk and Shouto has the most incredible vocal range, and they're both so stable when they're performing, too. Eijirou still has trouble breathing sometimes, his voice wavering and struggling to reach higher notes whenever the choreo gets a little too demanding. And he can't rap at all—much less rap like Katsuki, who spits bars with the same fiery confidence he spits out curses, or like Denki, who infuses his verses with so much energy it always leaves the crowd hyped up.
If at least Eijirou were a good dancer, he might add something to the group. But today's mistake only proved what he already knew—even when trying his best, it's still not enough. He's the odd one out; the one who messes up, who can't live up to the fans' expectations. Wouldn't Plus Ultra be better off without him, when all he does is hold them back?
"Eijirou? Hey, what's wrong? Why're you crying?"
Izuku is suddenly in front of him, cupping Eijirou's face and brushing away the tears Eijirou hadn't realized were spilling down his cheeks.
"I-I'm sorry, I-" Eijirou stammers as he takes a step back, rubbing his eyes. Shame adds to the turmoil of his feelings. He's their leader, he should always be strong in front of them, and yet here he is, crying like a damn baby.
"Eijirou, stop with this bullshit. I said stop." Strong fingers grip Eijirou's wrists, and Katsuki doesn't let go once he pulls Eijirou's hands down. "Why are you trying to hide from us?"
Eijirou opens his mouth to protest that he isn't hiding, but one look from Katsuki shuts him up. He'd just be lying anyway, wouldn't he? The concern in his friends' eyes prove that they truly have no idea what's gotten Eijirou like this. It's so sincere that it makes him feel worse.
Shouto puts his hand on Eijirou's shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. "Whatever it is, you can tell us."
Eijirou bites his lower lip to stop it from quivering. One glance around the room shows that the photographer and other staff have stepped away to give them the semblance of privacy and are milling about while avoiding looking at them. Eijirou appreciates that—it's hard enough to open up to the people who are like his brothers. He couldn't do it in front of everyone else, too.
Eijirou slips out of Katsuki's grasp and starts fiddling with his rings. "I messed up today." When all he gets are blank stares, he tries again, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "During Heroes. I got the choreo wrong, even though—even though we practiced it so many times—"
Izuku makes as if to say something, but now that Eijirou started talking, he can't get himself to stop.
"I was so stupid, making such a rookie mistake like that. What must the fans be thinking? You guys—You were doing amazing, are always doing amazing, and I—I'm just—"
"Human," Denki cuts him off and Eijirou clamps his jaw shut so fast it hurts. "The fans will think you're human. And humans make mistakes, Ei."
"But you—"
"We've all made mistakes on stage. There was that one time I slipped and fell in front of everyone." Denki smiles at the memory. Eijirou lets out a teary laugh—he'd forgotten about that incident. "That really hurt, but let me tell you, my ego was more bruised than my butt."
"I got the lyrics of Another Day wrong on that concert we did in Tokyo," Izuku adds.
"I've had my voice crack mid-performance before. More than once."
Four pairs of eyes turn to Katsuki, who crosses his arms and chews on the inside of his cheek. "I've gotten more dance moves wrong than everyone in this room combined. There's compilations of it on YouTube," he mumbles, then bristles when Eijirou's mouth falls open in shock. "What? Watching them helps me see where I need to improve."
Eijirou shakes his head. Katsuki is strong for seeing videos like that as motivation instead of discouragement, but that’s not what puzzles him. All these things they’re telling him, their mistakes—Eijirou only remembers them now that they’ve been mentioned. His groupmates shine so much on stage that these moments had been overshadowed in his memories, insignificant in comparison to the impressions left by their passion and skills.
“See, Eijirou, no one here’s perfect,” Izuku says. “All of that happened to us, and it was probably all over the internet, but do you think the fans stopped loving us because of that?”
It’s the most outrageous thing Eijirou’s ever heard. “Of course not.”
“Then what makes you think they’d stop loving you?”
It's such a simple question that Eijirou can do nothing but stare dumbfounded at Izuku as his brain processes the meaning behind it.
"You're an important part of Plus Ultra too, man. You're our leader," Denki says, swinging an arm around Eijirou's shoulders. "We'd be nothing without you."
Eijirou's breath catches in his throat and he feels like crying again, but for an entirely different reason than before. He'd been so stupid, hadn't he? So caught up in his negative thoughts that he'd let them get to him, had lost sight of what really mattered: his love for being on stage; the feeling of accomplishment every time he hits a difficult note; the joyful screams of the fans from the moment they walk in to the moment they say goodbye— Plus Ultra, we love you!
Plus Ultra. Kaminari Denki, Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku.
And Kirishima Eijirou.
Not one or two or four, but five of them.
"Thanks, guys."
Before Eijirou has time to say anything else, Denki is cooing over him and pulling them into a bone-crushing group hug. Eijirou laughs from where he's squished between them all, and his heart is full of love and a thousand times lighter when they pull apart.
"Photo time?" Shouto asks, receiving a chorus of whoops and cheers in response.
They wave the photographer over. As Eijirou wipes at the dried tear tracks on his face, he realizes he's looking forward to posting this photo on social media and seeing the fans' comments about the concert. There will be mean ones—there always are—but he knows they'll be nothing compared to the amount of love and support they receive.
This time, as they pose for the camera and the flash goes off, Eijirou's smile is more genuine than ever. He's together with his groupmates, and he's happy doing what he loves, and there'll be good days and bad days but one thing will never change—they'll always be there for each other.
What more could he ask for?