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Tamaki slowly drifted towards consciousness, the pain from each of his injuries bursting into his awareness one by one. He dragged one eye open, his eyelid gritty as sandpaper, and saw nothing but concrete in his sliver of vision. It fell shut again, and he became aware of his breath rasping in and out of his aching chest. It was so loud. And his head ached so much. Painfully, he inched a trembling hand up to probe his face. He flinched away as his fingers found his swelled-up cheek. He tried to open that eye, but it was swollen shut. His sluggish brain sorted through his most recent memories, and his adrenaline spiked. Whirling around, he looked to where he had left the villains unconscious and found them still there.
Sagging with relief, he dropped his head into his hands, his mind muddy with the pain. He swayed slightly as his vision darkened, and he took a shallow breath, hampered by his aching ribs. There was something...someone...Mirio! Panic shot through him as he remembered how he’d run off after Chisaki and Eri. He lunged to his feet, a grunt tearing from his throat. His legs buckled under him, and he slumped against the wall, breath rasping in his throat and his face throbbing. I have to find him. Gritting his teeth, he pushed off from the wall and lurched forward, tearing the door open. Nothing mattered if Mirio needed him.
As he made his way down the hall, one hand on the wall to keep himself upright, he scanned with his one good eye for signs of the heroes’ passage. The concrete of the hall was warped and twisted, and his single eye struggled to make sense of it. All he could think about was Mirio, alone and hurt somewhere I have to find him. Slowly, his legs grew more solid underneath him, and he could walk on his own without the wall’s support.
“Mirio!” he called, his throat raw. “Mirio!” The name bounced and echoed, but there was no response. “Mirio!” His toe caught a piece of debris, and he fell, skinning his palms on the floor and bruising his knees. Without a moment’s hesitation, he got to his feet again, forcing his battered body to keep moving forward. “Mirio! Mirio! Where are you?”
He stumbled through a jagged hole in the wall to find himself in a sinkhole so big it stretched the entire width of the highway. He could hear the sounds of fighting above, and he stumbled forward, tripping over spikes of concrete as he trained his eye on the sky, searching for signs of Mirio. He squinted in the light, head throbbing worse than ever, but just made out flashes of green weaving in and out and around a massive, fleshy monster he could only guess was Chisaki. Deku. Then where is Mirio? He returned his gaze to the sinkhole, scanning for any signs of life.
“Mirio! Mirio, are you here?” he shouted, his voice feeling weak and small in the chasm. “Mirio!” His voice cracked. Please no. If Deku was fighting Chisaki...that meant...no. “Mirio!” He made his way around the top edge of the sinkhole, leaving bloody handprints on each of the spikes he gripped. “Mirio!” He could feel panic rising in his chest, and he fought it down. He has to be here somewhere. “Mirio!”
He poked his head through a crumbled section of wall, his bare feet chilled by the concrete. He looked to his right, and--there! Was that him? His heart pounding in his throat, he clawed his way through, his gaze fixed on the crumpled figure on the ground. The shredded remains of a red cape hung from his shoulders, matted blonde hair stuck out every which way from his head--yes, it had to be him! And then, as Tamaki fell to his knees beside him, he saw the blood seeping across the floor from under him. His heart stopped.
Carefully, he took Mirio’s shoulder and turned him over, his breath catching in his throat, until Mirio’s head rested in his lap. He felt for a pulse. There were a few torturously long moments of stillness. Then a flutter. Tears of relief starting in his eyes, Tamaki placed a finger under Mirio’s nose and felt a breath. Mirio was alive. Tamaki rested his forehead on Mirio’s for a moment, weak with relief.
“You’re going to be alright,” he said, injecting certainly into his words over the waver of his voice. “You’re going to be alright.”
Grunting with the effort, he shifted and slung Mirio’s arm around his shoulders, propping Mirio’s torso against his. Mirio’s head slumped against Tamaki’s. “Come on,” Tamaki growled, more to himself than to Mirio. “Let’s get out of here.” Bracing his shaking legs against the ground, he rose, his ribs on fire as he took Mirio’s weight as well as his own. He took one step forward, then another, feeling Mirio’s blood soaking into his tunic where their sides pressed against each other.
“You’re going to be alright.”
Tamaki sat on his hospital bed fully clothed, his eyes unfocused as a nurse probed his cheekbone to make sure it had healed all the way. “Looks good,” she said, making a note in his chart on her clipboard. “You’re free to go, Mr. Amajiki.”
His eyes snapped over to her, and as she turned to leave, he asked, “Can I go visit Mirio now?’
She turned back to him and smiled. “Yes. Mr. Togata did a number on himself when he insisted on visiting Nighteye, but he’s recovered enough to have visitors.”
“Thank you,” Tamaki said, and she walked out, the door clicking shut behind her.
He shoved the blanket aside and swung his legs over the side of the bed, shoving his feet into his shoes and hurriedly tying the laces. There was no time for that when he could finally go see Mirio. He hadn’t seen him since they’d wheeled him away on a stretcher the day of the raid.
He made his way down the hall to Mirio’s room and knocked. “Mirio? It’s Tamaki.”
There was a moment of silence, then “Come in!” The cheerfulness so native to Mirio’s nature sounded forced this time. Tamaki nudged the door open and entered, stopping awkwardly just inside the door as it swung shut behind him.
Mirio was sitting up on the edge of his bed, his feet dangling over the side. He offered Tamaki a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and said, “You can come closer, I’m not contagious or anything.”
The corner of Tamaki’s mouth twitched in the hint of a smile, and he came forward, settling himself on the bed next to Mirio, hands in pockets. The two boys sat in silence, Tamaki suddenly realizing he had no idea what to say.
“I heard you kicked those Yakuza guys’ butts,” Mirio said, grinning over at him. “It’s too bad I missed it.”
Tamaki shrugged. “It was no big deal. I just did what needed to be done.”
“Are you kidding? From what I hear, you were amazing!”
“Not like you,” Tamaki replied, his eyes on the floor. “Running off to save Eri like that. We wouldn’t have saved her without you.”
“And I would have been a goner if you hadn’t taken on those guys and let the other heroes go ahead. It was a team effort, Tamaki.”
“I guess.” Tamaki looked away, his face flushing.
Silence fell again for a few moments, then Mirio said, “Sorry I’m not my normal self. But I’ll be 100% in no time.”
Tamaki hesitated, his heart pounding. It was such a simple question, but it felt like stepping off a cliff. What if he gets mad? What if he tells me to go away? Or what if I’m not ready to hear his answer? “Are you...okay?” he managed, looking over at Mirio for the first time.
Mirio’s smile faltered, and he looked down at the floor, then up at the wall across from them. “I will be,” he said, the confidence in his voice sounding fragile.
Tamaki looked at him in silence for a few moments. In all the years he’d known Mirio, his confidence and positivity had never wavered, not once. But who could blame him for wavering now? After everything? Still, it terrified Tamaki. Mirio had been his constant source of light for so long; he had been not just his sun but his rock, the only real source of stability in his life. He suddenly realized he didn’t know if he could be strong if Mirio wasn’t. But he looked at his face, his eyes, so determined and so, so afraid, and he realized that Mirio needed him whether he felt ready to be needed or not.
“Mirio,” he said hesitantly. “It’s okay to not be okay. I’m never okay.”
Mirio’s expression fell a little more, and he looked over at Tamaki, his blue eyes uncomprehending. “But that’s not me. I have to be okay. It’s who I am.”
“Maybe around everyone else,” Tamaki replied, not knowing where the courage to say all these words was coming from. “But you never have to pretend around me, you know that, right?”
Mirio’s eyes fell, and he looked back at the floor, his brows drawing together and his fists clenching in his lap. “If I fall apart now, I...don’t know if I’ll get back up again.” He shook his head. “I can’t let myself do that, I can’t let myself give up now.” His eyes rose to the wall, his expression fierce. “I’m going to be the hero Sir saw in my future! I won’t give up on that dream!”
“I know you won’t, Mirio,” Tamaki replied, his heart in his mouth. “And you will be that hero. Because you’re the sun. But even the sun sets.”
Mirio just shook his head wordlessly, his mouth tightening to hold back the tears that pricked at his eyes.
“I’ll help you get back up again,” Tamaki said so softly it was almost inaudible, placing a clammy hand awkwardly on Mirio’s shoulder.
Mirio’s eyes widened as they filled with tears, his chin wobbling with the effort of holding them back. His throat so dry he couldn’t swallow, Tamaki reached his other arm over and put it around Mirio, placing them in an awkward half-hug. He felt Mirio stiffen slightly. Oh God why did I do that this is so awkward I should just leave I’ll never be able to speak to him or look him in the face ever again. But then Mirio slumped a little, his face crumpling, and he turned into the hug, putting his arms around Tamaki and gripping him tightly. Stunned and more than a little taken aback, Tamaki stared at the wall, his eyes wide, as he felt Mirio’s tears soak into the front of his shirt.
Mirio’s shoulders shook with sobs, his breath shuddering in and out. Hesitantly, Tamaki raised a hand to the back of Mirio’s head and set it down. This is what normal people do when they’re comforting a crying person, right? Mirio just pushed his face into Tamaki’s neck and cried harder. Tamaki could feel his heart pounding, and he was terrified that Mirio could feel it too, that he could feel how nervous he was. But he didn’t know what else to do besides sit there with his arms around him while he cried, even though he felt awkward and stupid doing it.
After what felt like an eternity to Tamaki but was probably only a few minutes, Mirio’s crying eased, and he sniffed, pulling away from Tamaki to wipe his face. Tamaki’s arms fell to his sides, feeling useless. Mirio didn’t look at Tamaki for several long moments while he sniffed the last of his tears away, and then he said, “Thanks, I needed that.”
A warm feeling that felt like a burst of sunlight started in Tamaki’s chest, and he smiled a little, his cheeks reddening. Mirio looked over at him, his blue eyes a little red from crying, but warm and frank again, and smiled back. The two looked at each other for a long moment in silence, both seeing the other through new eyes. Something had shifted between them, and Tamaki couldn’t decide if it scared him in a good way or a bad way. But without a doubt, he knew the respect and heartfelt appreciation he saw in Mirio’s eyes was worth it.