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Hitoshi ambles into his boyfriend's dorm room, dumps his rucksack on the floor with a careless thump, and immediately steps forward to lean down and wrap long arms around Izuku's shoulders, burying his face in curls that don't smell quite as sweet as usual. Ugh, idiot greenie.
"Izu, you been looking after yourself?"
"Mmhm." And that's a non-answer if ever he heard one, Hitoshi should know. He's a master of them himself.
"Izu..." he drawls, a purr layering into the word that would usually earn him strawberry cheeks and flustered sputtering. Yet today Izuku continues to scribble nigh-on illegible notes and mutter beneath his breath, a mess of technical terms and evaluative comments. None of it is conducive to Izuku actually taking care of himself. This simply won't do.
"Hey, greenie, face me a sec?"
Izuku, despite his usually remarkable and sometimes annoying persistence on being polite, doesn't answer him, idly reaching up to pat at Hitoshi's arm. The taller man, not very impressed with that, draws back until his hands are settled carefully on his boyfriend's shoulders and he can watch, wait until Izuku lifts his pen away from the notes to think for a second, then tugs Izuku bodily away, rolling desk chair coming back with him. The greenette yelps, hands scrambling at his papers and desk, but Hitoshi has already brought him into the middle of the room and turned the chair around to face him.
"Izuku-" Hitoshi pauses, falters, tongue abruptly feeling leaden because it's been three days since he saw his boyfriend, thanks to having a pre-internship trial at a psychiatric hospital a few cities over, and in that time Izuku has pretty clearly not been sleeping.
And Hitoshi is meant to be the insomniac in their relationship. Maybe they both are. But he doesn't want either of them to be. Not when it has Izuku dead-eyed, that stunning green dull and decaying, surrounded by dark eye bags and too-pale skin, freckles stark in a way that manages to be the tiniest bit cute but is largely just worrying.
"Toshi, why did you-" He cuts the protest right off, trying not to snap out of his concern,
"Izuku. You know I'm meant to be the insomniac, right?"
"Yeh? Speaking of, you should sleep!" Izuku chirps, something a bit brighter coming into his eyes as he stares up at Hitoshi, squinting at the taller's eye bags. Damn, how did Hitoshi get such an oblivious yet intelligent boyfriend?
"You- No. Nope. Just come sleep with me?"
They both freeze, blushes creeping in.
"That," Hitoshi starts, voice a slow, hesitant drawl,
"Is not what I meant. Well, it is, but not like that. Just- In bed, now," he huffs, willing his red ears to fade out. It probably doesn't work.
"But Toshi, I'm meant to be-"
"Sleeping. You're meant to be sleeping because so help me if those eyebags aren't somewhat faded by the time I drag you to my house to see Eri tomorrow then you will never hear the end of it. I can and will ring Inko-san too. Don't think I won't." And that's a double-whammy of a threat that even his sleep-deprived boyfriend isn't too dumb to notice.
"Toshi, I just need to-"
"Izuku, love, please." And that, finally, has Izuku really pausing. One deep breath, then another, before he slumps forwards, burying his face against Hitoshi's t-shirt. After a few long seconds, arms wrapping around each other, Izuku nods against his boyfriend's chest, a shaky hum escaping.
"C'mon then Strawberry." The pet name earns him the blush that it originated from, freckles golden amongst the gorgeous red, and Hitoshi unwinds one arm from around Izuku's shoulders, instead gently pushing back some of his curls, fingertips brushing along the constellation-speckled cheekbones, curving beneath one of those stunning green eyes that he sees everywhere he goes.
Not even ten minutes later, they're both laying in Izuku's bed, an alarm set on Hitoshi's phone for a few hours' time and Izuku's weighted blanket pulled up to their shoulders. Izuku is loosely curled up on his side, one scarred hand settled over his stomach, fingers interlaced with his partner's, their combined touch a warm brand even over his t-shirt. Hitoshi is plastered along the greenette's back, leaning heavily against him, pillowing both of their heads on a bent arm, legs curling to follow the curve of his boyfriend's, pressed together along the entire length of their bodies. It isn't teasing or scandalous. No, it's comforting, an undeniable assurance of each other being there.
It's what Izuku needs to finally let himself switch off and relax. The last few nights have been bad. He's been a mess of stress and anxiety, far worse than usual, all bitten lips and tugged hair, because he needs to do well in these exams, needs to prove that he's worthy of his dual-course, of his Mum's and Toshinori's belief in him. He needs to prove himself.
But here, in Toshi's arms, he has nothing to prove. No expectations, no disappointment, no sacrifices. It's just being together, pure and simple, feeling hot breaths against his neck, the occasional kiss brushed across his freckled nape, and the slow slide into a wonderful sleep together.
"Toshi, did you not eat any lunch?" The question is asked with furrowed brows and an accusing gaze, the disapproving tone enough to jolt the insomniac out of his studying haze to pay attention to Izuku.
"Huh?"
"Your stomach growled a minute ago; did you miss a meal?" The accusation has yet to fade or mellow.
"Uh..." He probably shouldn't tell Izuku that he's missed two, else he has no doubt his boyfriend will pout and well up until Hitoshi's eaten a ten course banquet.
"Lunch, yeh. I was studying."
"Study whilst you eat, stupid." Dammit, an insult shouldn't sound so much like an endearment. Or maybe it's just because Izuku is the one saying it.
"Sorry, sorry. I'll eat a big dinner tonight, oka-"
"Or you could eat these now!" Izuku chirps, reaching into his rucksack and slamming down a snack-size pack of Bombay Mix and a bag of salted caramel chocolates.
"I'd rather give you something healthier, but we both know that the librarian barely tolerates dry snacks that are quiet and apples are noisy and juicy, so I figured it was best not to go with them, and strawberries leave the tops too, so-"
"Greenie. Those are all of my favourites."
"Well, yeh," Izuku shrugs, perfectly nonchalant, and Hitoshi is suspicious.
"Which you know... how?" The greenette perks up even more then, practically bouncing in his seat,
"I have Hizashi-san and Shouta-san's phone numbers!"
"That isn't an explanation," Hitoshi deadpans. If he reaches for the Bombay Mix at the same time, then Izuku only pats his hand condescendingly to call him out on it.
"Isn't it though?" Which, well, is fair. Izuku's majors are Criminology and Illustration for a reason. He's all whip-smart, logic and creativity and detail-orientation rolled into one muttering, adorable package with curly bows and golden polka-dot paper and Hitoshi couldn't adore his boyfriend more. But sometimes he's just that little bit terrifying.
He revises that opinion several hours later when, instead of going to Izuku's dorm accommodation to eat dinner, his partner instead drags him to a local restaurant, a quiet, kid-friendly type of place, and they're greeted by a sweet voice crying out,
"Toshi-nii! Mido!"
"Eri-chan! How's my favourite strawberry?" Izuku is already on his knees to accept the flying tackle-hug that the white-haired girl collides into him with, a grin so wide and beautiful that Hitoshi's heart freezes in his chest, overwhelmed with something so soft and lovesick that it's ridiculous, only pulled out of it by his Pops swinging an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close. His Dad is slumped at a table ahead of them, eyeing their interactions with that soft smile he normally tries to hide.
Yeh, Izuku's very terrifying. But it's not really a bad thing.
"So, Izuku here told us that you missed lunch as well as breakfast today listener?" Dammit, Hitoshi should have known he'd get caught. It hadn't been intentional, he'd just genuinely gotten caught up in attending a last-minute seminar and then he'd needed to take out some books and then he and Izuku's table had been clear so he'd snatched it up before someone else could and somewhere, in amongst his rush and revision, he'd missed eating.
His Pops, despite Hitoshi saying none of this, seems to get the gist as he gently shakes the young man in his grip, rapping his mess of hair with careful knuckles.
"Gotta eat to keep on rockin' Hitoshi, you know? Look after yourself."
"Your Pops is right, brat. Don't make Eri worry, or that boyfriend of yours." Hitoshi can't help flush a little then, somewhere between pleased and embarrassed, because he doesn't like getting scolded like this, soft though it might be, but he can see why, and he does feel bad for potentially worrying his family.
But then his dads and Eri are sat in one side of the booth, the little girl content between them, legs kicking in her too-bright ugly cat leggings, all energy and big smiles, absolutely infectious. And Hitoshi's shoulder and elbow bump with Izuku's whenever the shorter boy gestures, and even more later when they all start eating.
It's the perfect way to spend an early evening. All of his favourite people are around him, happy and relaxed.
Hitoshi, stress and urgency falling away, the thorns of the roses in his chest shrivelling to leave flowers blooming and blossoming, soft petals brushing against his lungs, a sweet song in his heart, revels in every moment. He couldn't be more grateful that Izuku is a little sneak with too much kindness for words.
This is everything Hitoshi didn't know he needed.
There are iron bars around Izuku's lungs, holding him captive, and he knows this is an oncoming panic attack, yet he can't drag his attention from the words swimming before his eyes, different artistic revolutions choosing artists' names to dance with, following the too-fast rhythm of his heartbeat, cresting and dipping whenever he attempts to drag in air.
Every breath rasps and rancours, gritty under his tongue and tight in his lungs, grating and grinding. He loses track of the minutes, endlessly trying to focus on something, counting or reading or something coherent and productive, but he can't hear himself over the mindless chant of whispers echoing through his mind. He knows he's not good enough. He knows it better than his own scars, knows that he has to be perfect, has to push himself, has to keep up his good grades even though he doesn't deserve them, has to hide his stupidity and failures-
"Izuku, greenie, love, I'm here, can you focus on me, please? Strawberry, I'm right here. Just focus on my voice and try to breathe through it, please. C'mon Izuku, that's it love. In, two, three, four; hold, two, three, four; out, two, three..."
It doesn't take too long to pull his boyfriend out of his haze, which is good for Hitoshi's heart and soul because finding Izuku dead-eyed with a heaving chest had been awful. Is awful. He's only seen the greenette go through two panic attacks before and had very carefully guided him through those and, luckily, this wasn't quite a fully-fledged one, certainly not as bad as the other two had been post-nightmares, and so Hitoshi doesn't hesitate to pull his boyfriend close as soon as his eyes are clear and his chest rising and falling steadily. Trembling hands twist into his hoodie.
"Hey there Strawberry."
"H-hi T-T-Toshi." The words may waver and fracture around the edges, frayed, but they are still beautiful. The insomniac revels in them.
"You stressed again?" He waits a long minute to ask the question, until his partner is relaxed against him rather than tense with lingering emotions, and he's gratified, more than, when Izuku doesn't instantly tense up over it.
"Y-yeh, I was," he admits. He blinks once, twice, then meets Hitoshi's gaze, for a fraction of a second.
"Fair. But you really don't need to be Izuku. You're gonna do great because you're clever and analyti-"
"But I'm not!" The sudden cry in his ear has Hitoshi flinching. He still doesn't release his boyfriend though, holding him tighter for a moment before drawing back just enough to stare into those stunning green eyes that had first made him want to talk to Izuku.
"I'm stupid Toshi. I'm meant to be smart but I just make so many mistakes and everyone thinks I'm so clever but I can only really memorise things and when it comes down to it I never do as well as I'm meant to and all I do is disappoint people and-"
"Woah, woah, Izuku, stop. Strawberry, please."
They both stutter to a halt then, wide green eyes wet and gleaming where they stare up into Hitoshi's, still vibrant but this time with something awful and oil-slick, gleaming from toxicity rather than joy, and Hitoshi burns inside-out to see Izuku struggling so much. They've both been having wobbles, but it still hurts so very much to see.
"Midoriya Izuku, you are beautiful and intelligent and unstoppable, you hear me? You do more than learn things; you apply them, know them from every perspective, twist them and debate them until every possibility is exhausted because you're so very, very clever. Your mind is beyond me, you know? You're brilliant." And now that glistening overspills, no longer oil-slick but rather star-bright, clear and crystalline, and Izuku buries his face into the crook of Hitoshi's neck, the skin wet within seconds but neither of them cares, Hitoshi gradually settling back onto his heels and then onto the floor of Izuku's dorm, bringing his boyfriend down with him, the shorter boy collapsed in his lap, sobbing near-silently as his insomniac cards a hand through soft curls and murmurs a steady stream of reassurances, half-nonsensical but all heartfelt and genuine.
And so, with that, Izuku slowly calms down again. He shifts back a little, both of them still very much holding each other close, but it's enough that he can tilt his head back and press gentle, grateful kisses along the line of Hitoshi's jaw and then stretch up that little bit further to press his lips to the corner of his partner's mouth, all sweet and soft.
They're both smiling when he tucks his head away once more.
A hand pulls roughly at Hitoshi's hair, tugging and twisting into the messy locks, idly reminding himself to dye it again soon before staring back down at the piles of scrawled notes, highlighters and half-empty pens. The other half of the double-desk is taken up by Izuku's own organised chaos, their feet tangled below. But Hitoshi has been losing focus, the enormity of his course content crashing over him in tidal waves, just as unstoppable and overwhelming.
"Toshi?"
"Hm?" he manages, looking back down from the ceiling to meet Izuku's concerned gaze.
"You alright? You seem a bit, I don't know, hesitant, or like you could maybe do with a hug or something?"
"I-" He's about to say no, to turn Izuku down and try to concentrate again, but then he sees the slight pout already forming, and he's soft for his boyfriend.
"I wouldn't mind."
Izuku, of course, instantly bounds to his feet, rounds their desks with already outstretched hands, and oh-so tenderly pulls Hitoshi's head against his chest, ear pressed to a calm heartbeat, and the insomniac lets out a long breath he hadn't realised he was holding. Then his eyes are burning and words follow the breath unbidden.
"Dammit, I'll never be as good as my Dad, why did I ever think I was gonna be able to do this? There's so much and he's gonna be so disappointed in me-" And Izuku will not stand for this, he just won't,
"Hitoshi, you shut the fuck up right now. One - your dad is so proud of you it's obvious, they both are, and I've only know them for about three months now. And two - you're so intelligent and kind it's not even funny so you shut that pretty mouth of yours and either cuddle me more or do some work, you hear me? Those are your only two options right now or so help me-" Hitoshi chokes on a wet laugh and Izuku shuts up to squeeze him even tighter. To hold him even closer. Hitoshi, safe and not quite right yet but so much better all the same, closes his eyes and focuses on the strong arms around him, the sincere pulse thumping against his ear and the slow breaths pressed along his front. It's safe and quiet and grounding. Everything he needed without even having truly asked for it.
He and Izuku are like that, he finds. They give each other everything they didn't know they were missing, fill in gaps and slot into places like the most blessed, natural puzzle pieces to be found. They're the trees that grow tall and strong with their branches intertwined. Unhindered by strong weather, unswayed by the gusts of daily life, never losing their grip upon each other. It's beautiful and more than Hitoshi or Izuku think they individually deserve but they know, without a doubt, that the other does, and that makes everything so much easier.
Perhaps that's why they work so well together. They can hold each other close, support and cherish them, and never expect it in return but still be offered it without hesitation. It's a perfect balance and it's theirs. Together, they will overcome any doubts and stress. No two ways about it.
(And indeed they do. With the support of each other and their families, they study and relax and stay motivated in all the right measures, until exams come and go, then results are out and they've both done well. More than well. It calls for celebratory dates and dinners with families, a long weekend to themselves as they rest and recuperate, revel in the easy adoration they share. It's not a bad way to end the exam season at all.)