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Maybe he should have realized it sooner- looked at all the signs for what they truly were instead of creating a fantasy in his head where every shifting glance or fleeting touch meant more than just that. In retrospect, it was obvious he wasn’t special to Katsuki- not in the way he was to Eijirou; not in a sense that was permanent like he had previously, stupidly assumed. The saddest part was it took Eijirou three years to come to that conclusion, and many months after to accept it.
Over the years he had fallen further and further for the blonde. His progress as a hero was and always would be attributed to himself, his own hard work and perseverance. A few seconds of unbreakable turned into a minute, then five, then ten. By third year, his quirk was just as powerful as that of Midoriya’s and Todoroki’s- and he could hold his own against villains during patrols with Tamaki and Fatgum. It was all great, and he was a good hero- just fine on his own. Every now and then, though, his thoughts couldn’t help but drift to Katsuki.
Katsuki, who’s words spurred him onto going unbreakable the very first time. Stubborn, arrogant Katsuki, who refused to be saved by anyone and yet let Eijirou take his hand when everything was on the line- when it mattered most.
Katsuki, who barely acknowledged him in the halls now.
Once upon a time they had been practically joined at the hip, two forces like searing heat and roaring wind forming a hurricane-like presence: on the battlefield and off. Eijirou had admired Katsuki from the start. Admittedly in the beginning his reasoning was superficial; Katsuki’s physique was… admirable, put lightly. Next to that, his lack of fear in the face of danger; his sheer will power and the strength of his quirk, still untrained but devastating in its effect- How could Eijirou not fall for the bombshell blonde?
Katsuki didn’t like people, which the redhead learned nigh instantaneous. Regardless of this factor, with time and patience, Eijirou seemingly wormed his way into the crevices of Katsuki’s heart. Embarrassingly, he thought that counted for something. After Kamino, the intensity of their relationship increased with insistent tenderness. Instead of shying away from Eijirou’s gaze, Katsuki now held them back. Intense carmine bored into his own crimson stare, and the other boy found that the look the blonde levelled was not that of judgement or anger, but an almost pensive acknowledgement.
Katsuki was never touchy to begin with, but that was before the nightmares were brought to Eijirou’s attention. He would hold the blonde through them; harden his flesh against the panicked explosions that would crackle and burst against his bare chest- be the barrier that protected Katsuki from himself. He would hold him tight, for as long as Katsuki needed, because it was all for him. Eijirou knew that if the need arose, Katsuki would return the favour. He thought he knew. Now he wasn’t so sure he could count on his former friend to even acknowledge his existence.
Somewhere along the line something- whatever it was, changed. It most likely began with Katsuki reconciling his past with Midoriya. Eijirou had been so proud of him at the time, had pressed their thighs together in an unspoken expression of affection from where they sat on Katsuki’s bed in his dorm. The blonde had flushed a flattering shade of crimson all the way down to his collarbone and told Eijirou that it wasn’t a big fucking deal, should have done it years ago . Hearing those words had only made him all the prouder. Next had come finally acknowledging Todoroki as a friend- even if that fact was obvious to the entirety of 3-A already. Something shifted in the dynamic between the three. Rivalry turned into begrudging friendship, and by the end of the summer the trio were inseparable, whether Katsuki would admit it or not.
Between the two of them, there wasn’t much time for Eijirou anymore.
It started with the texts, lighting up his phone one to three hours late after their planned study sessions, reading; ‘sorry, got caught up training. make up lesson next week.’ Eijirou knew he was with the others. He chose not to think about it.
Logically, he wasn’t owed Katsuki’s time. Logically, there was nothing for Eijirou to feel the sinking weight of rejection over- it was good Katsuki was finally making amends. But logic was nowhere to be seen. Ironically, neither was the person he considered the only one he trusted with his heart.
The make up lessons never came.
Distinctly, the thought that Katsuki didn’t really need someone to love; only someone to teach him how to, crossed Eijirou’s mind. This assumption hit him like a freight train one day during lunch at the UA cafeteria as he placed his tray down next to Ashido, sitting opposite from Kaminari and Sero.
From there, he could see Katsuki a few tables away. He poked at his homemade bento aggressively with chopsticks, like it had insulted him personally. His cheek was swollen with a mouthful of rice, and Eijirou knew this because Katsuki usually packed Onigiri on Thursdays. To his left was Midoriya, chatting away animatedly to Todoroki, who flanked Katsuki’s other side. Bakugou elbowed Midoriya half heartedly with feigned anger, and Eijirou watched as the green haired boy placed a hand on his bicep with a placating grin. Todoroki said something with a completely blank expression, and it was obviously amusing, because Katsuki was suddenly laughing obnoxiously and spitting the rice in his mouth.
Eijirou couldn’t make out what they were saying after that, the shattering of his heart echoing and reverberating in his ears- blocking any other noise.
Everything was simultaneously too loud and deafeningly silent, and Eijirou felt his chest collapse in on itself like a supernova. The only thing forcing its presence to be known among the overwhelming sensation was a hand at his shoulder. He distinctly registered the touch as Ashido’s. She followed his gaze and found her own eyes saddening as she took in Eijirou’s expression. The redhead teared his eyes away from the scene when he heard Ashido call his name, compartmentalizing the feeling somewhere deep inside, where it hurt a little less;
“I’m fine, Ashi. It’s fine.” It was a lie, but if he repeated it enough, maybe he’d believe it too.
Eventually, Eijirou didn’t need to make himself believe it.
He realized somewhere in the throes of heartbreak and rejection that he wasn’t 14 anymore. He wasn’t the pathetic Eijirou who cowered in the face of adversity, even if that adversity was the loss of his first love. He was worth more than Katsuki’s love- or lack thereof. Unbreakable wasn’t always skin deep. Unbreakable was his spirit- his heart.
He would be his own unwavering steed.
It happened during winter training one afternoon with the rest of 3-A. Eijirou had just finished sparring with Sato and perfecting his Red Gauntlet for maximized impact. Katsuki, who had paired off with Todoroki, suddenly approached him while the redhead was conversing with Kaminari over possible conductors for his quirk to use in a combo move with other classmates. He had sidled up to Eijirou like it was natural, after months upon months of him going unacknowledged on Katsuki’s radar.
“You did pretty great out there, Shitty Hair. Your uppercut move ain’t half bad.” The blonde shoulder checked Eijirou, and something bitter twisted in his chest, not just at the nickname. Eijirou knew all of the names of Katsuki’s moves, and the other boy couldn’t even remember the one he had been working on for the duration of the semester. Maybe, months ago, he would have flourished under the praise; cherished it like an oasis in a desert. Things were different now.
“Sorry, but you don’t get to call me that anymore.” Kirishima smiled, but it held in its jaws a steely resolve. Katsuki had the nerve to look shocked, his eyes widening before he grumbled out with furrowed brows.
“W’dya mean I don’t get to call you that? Fucks crawled up your ass?” It lacked heat in its tone, but instead held a kind of reserved hurt. Eijirou felt a twinge of confidence from his ability to finally put Katsuki in his place.
“I mean what I said. 'Shitty Hair' was only okay when we were friends- and even then, it sucked. So, sorry, but you don’t get to call me that anymore. Just Kirishima is fine.” The class went silent as everyone held their breath, waiting for Katsuki’s response. The blonde's jaw was slack in shock as he floundered under the sudden burst of passive aggression, but Eijirou held his ground. If Katsuki thought it came from nowhere, well then- that was his problem, wasn’t it?
“Yeah- I. Yeah, ok. Good… job, Kirishima.” Katsuki’s lips pursed into a thin line as he stepped back. In another life, Eijirou would compliment him back, shower him in encouragement and praise. Katsuki was accustomed to his undivided attention. For this reason, Eijirou simply nodded a thanks and turned his back to his stunned classmates, picking back up the conversation with Kaminari.
Katsuki realised maybe he had fucked up, just a little.