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It starts with a gossip piece. Well, actually it probably started in middle school, but it’s reawoken with a vengeance one bright Sunday morning as Eijirou is biting into an everything bagel and scrolling through his phone in his sun washed kitchen. The it in question is the stomach dropping and head swimming feelings of being seen . Having heavily fortified protections peeled back and a microscope lowered into Eijirou’s tender and vulnerable insides, the war zone that acts as a sorry excuse for a headspace. He knows, god he knows , not to click on the damn thing. But his name is in the bolded header paired with the words weight gain, and stagnant, so he ignores the sirens screaming in his head and opens it.
Gossip articles are a daily occurrence for pro heroes. Sometimes they are positive and exciting to read and other times. Well. Other times they read like this:
Pro Hero Red Riot seems to have remained stagnant in his 45th spot on the Hero Billboards as another year passes, but fans and colleagues of the hero alike can agree that he has grown in other areas. A recent fan that goes by @riotsone on social media platform Rummer, recently received a barrage of mixed responses on a post that was shared on a popular Red Riot fan forum. The post consisted of a series of unedited face cams of the hardening hero. Many other users pointed out not only the hero's unmoving position on the charts, but how large the hero now looks.
Users were unafraid to point out the changing physic of the hero. One, @ Dyna.Mine, said this:
It’s almost like he’s stopped caring. He hasn’t moved on the charts hardly at all and it’s been three years. And now he’s letting himself go. The least he could do is wear a shirt, especially if he’s going to be seen publicly with @DynaMight.
Another user agreed, commenting on the amount of weight the hero has gained, attributing it to a lack of movement on the charts.
Yet another user voiced concerns over his public influence sending the wrong message about healthy lifestyles. And as usual discourse over Red Riot’s sometimes controversial hero costume was brought up. Many agree that it is, “a pathetic call for attention.”
Eijirou puts down his phone and his bagel, the cool cream cheese and spices don’t taste good anymore. In fact the bite that is still in his mouth, clinging to the top of his mouth, feels like lead. He glances down at his torso. Dressed as he is only in pajama bottoms he has a clear view of how his stomach rounds over the hem of the red pants.
Swallowing thickly, Eijirou pokes at himself. Yeah, he is softer than he was when he was fresh out of highschool. He’s thicker now with soft sides, pudging thighs and his round stomach. But he is strong, and healthy. The extra fluff helps maintain his Quirk longer and ensures his stamina lasts as he needs it to while he holds up a building or curls his hardened form around a civilian in the wake of falling debris. There isn’t anything wrong with what he looks like, his hero costume, or where he sits currently on the charts. He’s a good hero. It’s with that thought in mind that Eijirou spitefully finishes his breakfast and decides to put it out of his mind. One cruel gossip magazine has no power over him.
Except it’s not one shitty article. Suddenly it feels like Eijirou can’t get away from comments about his body, skills, costume, attitude, all of it . There are posts all over his socials talking about his weight or the stupidest mistakes he made. He gets asked questions about why he isn’t moving up when he happens to get caught with Katsuki after an incident. He stutters through answers before Katsuki blows up at the reporter and sends them running, tails tucked between their legs. The hardest part isn’t being judged so harshly but the fact that Eijirou can feel the words starting to get to him. Old insecurities rising fast to the forefront of his mind and consuming much of his thoughts, distracting him.
“Eijirou!” Denki calls. Eijirou blinks, right, they’re at dinner, the second twice a month Bakusquad dinner. It’s wings tonight, Hanta had won dibs on where to eat and had shoved them all into a little booth in a dark corner of a tiny American style wing joint.
“Sorry,” Eijirou says smiling at his friends, “Were you saying something?”
Katsuki is watching him, eyes narrowed, “Yeah. We were asking if you wanted anything else.”
Eijirou looks down at his plate. Five wings, which suddenly feels like too much, a pile of carrots and celery. “Nope. All good. Thanks though.”
Four sets of eyes bore into him, before Mina shrugs. She reaches over and snags one of Eijirou’s carrots, dunks it into ranch and pops it into her mouth. Eijirou smiles at her but can’t find the energy to snark something or play possessive over the food in front of him like usual. Katsuki’s glare deepens but he doesn’t say anything about it. None of them do and Eijirou searches desperately to find a topic for them to talk about that will drive their attention away from his neglected plate. In a rare moment of luck, however, it's Hanta who brings up a topic of conversation that ensnares everyone’s attention, including Katsuki’s who’s eyes finally stop burning holes into Eijirou’s skull as he shifts his gaze to Hanta.
“I mean fourteenth? That’s badass!” Hanta cheers, holding up a ketchup smothered fry like it’s a wine glass. “It’s probably because of my dashing good looks.”
Katsuki scoffs, swatting the fry out of his hand. “Like fuck it is. You saved that bus full of people you asshat. Looks don’t mean shit at the end of the day.”
“Incorrect,” Denki mumbles, “You gotta be pretty to catch the eye of the public. I mean even you have the advantage of looking like a model Kacchan.”
Mina sprawls back in the booth, she has the beer menu open in front of her. “Yeah, as much as that sucks, he’s not wrong. It’s the reason so many female pros start off with modeling gigs. It’s a sure fire way for people to recognize you when you hit the scene.”
“Some of us just do it for fun,” Denki says smugly. “My makeup line was an overnight success, and it was all because of my face.”he flutters his fingers under his chin.
A sick twist of jealousy squirms in Eijirou’s stomach. He should be proud of his friend, hell he’d purchased the Chargebolt eyeshadow palette and it was good quality makeup. Denki had sold a lot of if because he had shamelessly worn it on the field and sitting in on interviews. The color on his eyes and the black lip made him stand out and he really was beautiful. People were buying Denki’s face as much as they were buying the product. And even though Eijirou knows he shouldn’t be jealous, he is.
“You’re all idiots.” Katsuki snarks. He waves over a waiter and orders them all a round of beer. “If your face is all you need for success, you’re doing something wrong.”
Mina rolls her eyes heavily, “You say that like that’s true, but image in today’s hero society means so much. Every part of a hero is scrutinized. You have to look fit and hot or you’re going to struggle on the charts.” she points at Eijirou, “I mean take Fatgum for example, he was strong as hell, right Ei?”
“Yeah.” Eijirou mumbles.
“Right, but he never even broke top twenty. Why do you think that is?”
“Because he was fat?” Eijirou mutters. Dropping his gaze to the table, refusing to meet Mina’s eyes.
“Yup. He was fat.”
Katsuki scoffs again, “Yeah, but that was his fucking Quirk. He wouldn’t be Fat gum if he wasn’t ya know, fat.”
“Ugh! You don’t get what I’m saying! He was a great hero, saved Eri and all that jazz, but he wasn’t hot enough in the public’s eye to move up the charts!” Mina snaps.
“What you look like doesn’t mean shit!”
Eijirou stands so suddenly his knees bang into the bottom of the table. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
He hurries away before anyone can stop him. A bad feeling is settling over Eijirou, bad as in cold is creeping up his legs and his breath is starting to come faster, squeezing out of his chest and getting caught behind his lips where he refuses to let it out. The taste of wing sauce now bitter on the back of his tongue. Eijirou’s friends don’t deserve to be burdened by him, they’re here to have a good time and celebrate the successes of the month. Mina wasn’t even talking bad about his body, if anything she was attempting to make a point about the unrealistic body image when it came to heroes.
His mind won’t let him see that clearly though, and he can’t help but feel the new weight of his stubborn spot on the hero charts, and the new physical weight.
Sitting on a toilet, face buried in his hands, Eijirou counts to forty then to fifty until he reaches one hundred, then he counts backwards. He does this five times, until his blurring vision clears and the grimy tiles on the bathroom floor aren’t blurry anymore. No one has come to find him yet, and a traitorous part of his mind is upset about it, but another part is very relieved.
Washing his hands Eijirou ducks out of the bathroom and returns to their booth. The beer has been brought over, tall frothing glasses of gold liquid that drip with condensation. Perfect for after the meal of sodium filled foods they’d just had.
“You okay?” Katsuki snaps at him, scooting out of the booth to offer room for Eijirou to get back to his spot.
Eijirou smiles at him, ducking his head as he shimmies by, “Yeah. I’m good.”
The conversation around the table has shifted again, to things that hold little importance. Eijirou can shut his mind off from it and wait for the evening to be over.
Two weeks later Eijirou can’t stop thinking about it. Any of it. The conversation, the article, the way for some reason his stupid scar suddenly looks stark and so noticable. Everything looks wrong to him now, his hair that is probably also a pathetic cry for attention, needs a redye. The black roots are starting to encroach on the red and look glaringly obvious. Later that month he’s asked what he feels about being on the ‘looks most like a villain’ list. Eijirou hadn’t even known he was on it, but he understands why he is. Unbreakable isn’t the most attractive final form, he’s seen the pictures and videos from his most trying fights.
“Do I look scary?” Eijirou asks Amajiki one evening as they meander down the street during a lazy patrol.
“Now?” Amajiki asks, glancing at Eijirou out of the corner of his eye.
Eijirou bends to pick up a stray piece of trash. “Well maybe, but mostly when I go Unbreakable.”
Amajiki shrugs, “Yeah. I mean you’re huge, and spikey.” he buries the bottom half of his face into the high color of his cloak, “You’re teeth are massive.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Eijirou flexes hardening onto his hands as they walk in silence. The tips of his fingers curl into long harsh claws. Before he had graduated Katsuki had mentioned off handedly that he should grow out his nails as a second defense. Now he regrets it, because his nails look absolutely lethal. That’s that last thing Eijirou wants, he’s not like Katsuki who’s okay with looking like a ticking bomb. He wants people to feel safe, protected against whatever is threatening them when he’s on the scene. How can Eijirou do that when he looks like he could kill something by gripping it too hard in his clawed hands?
Eijirou stews in his thoughts until he and Amajiki are called to the scene of a burning apartment building. He catches a kid that was falling out of a burning window, holding him close to his softened chest, even as his face remains hardened to combat the heat and sparks that spit off of the blazing building . Eijirou smiles down at the boy and he promptly bursts into hysterical tears, pushing desperately away from Eijirou. He screams and cries until Amajiki comes to investigate, Eijirou shoves the kid into his arms and walks away.
It shouldn’t have made a difference, it was one child in the middle of a stressful situation, but it makes all the difference. The next morning his alarm goes off at five like usual, but he slaps his phone and pulls the covers over his head. Eijirou can’t imagine getting up, facing himself in the mirror as he spikes his hair, and then spend the entirety of patrol pretending. So he just. Doesn’t.
Time oozes by strangely when tucked into the stifling cocoon of his blankets. The lights off and the black out curtains not allowing any sun into his room, the day comes and goes. Eijirou sleeps, stares at the ceiling, sleeps some more. Guilt builds in his chest, and when it becomes unbearable, he sleeps even more. His mind is loud, the discomfort of hunger is chewing at his insides, but it’s almost satisfying so Eijirou doesn’t do anything about it.
“Shitty hair!”
Katsuki is banging on his door. Screeching his old highschool nickname. Eijirou opens his eyes, staring blankly at the wall on the furthest side of his room. The door shakes with the force of Katsuki’s knocking. Maybe he should get up and open it, just to save the door from damage, not because he wants to see the other man right now.
“Ei? Hey, I'm coming in.” Katsuki’s voice is hoarse like he’s been yelling for a while. The door knob wiggles and Katsuki curses quietly under his breath. “I’ll pay for the repairs.” and then he blows it up.
Stepping through smoke and remaining sparks, Katsuki surveys the room cautiously, almost like he’s expecting there to be some enemy lurking in the messy edges of Eijirou’s room. His eyes narrow as they land on the lump that is Eijirou, still in his cocoon, the smallest of air holes letting him peer through.
“What.” Oh. He thought Katsuki’s voice was harsh, but Eijirou's voice is nearly non-existent.
“ What? That’s all you have to say after ignoring everyone for three days?”
Eijirou’s eyes widen and he peers over the side of his bed at his phone that he had never picked up after knocking it off his wardrobe the last time his alarm went off. Katsuki picks it up, examining the device as he turns it on, turning it to show Eijirou the plethora of unread text messages and missed calls.
Katsuki sighs, tossing the phone onto the bedside table and looks down at Eijirou. He pushes back the blanket, light fingertips brushing through greasy strands of hair. "You had everyone fucking worried about you.”
“Oh.” Eijirou chokes, tears rising unbidden in his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how long it was.”
Katsuki kneels on the floor so they’re face to face. “You didn’t realize? Have you been here the whole time?”
Eijirou cringes away from Katsuki’s hand, which had wandered down his face, brushing back his hair as he goes. “Yeah.”
Katsuki huffs, “What’s wrong, you’ve been off for a while. Don’t fucking deny it, I know you.” His voice is stern, but low in that way Katsuki uses when he’s trying to be kind.
“I don’t feel good.” Eijioru admits.
“You sick?” Katsuki presses the back of his hand on Eijirou’s forehead. A single hot tear slides out of the corner of Eijirou’s eye, slipping over his nose and staining a perfect circle into his red blanket.
“Kinda I guess. I don’t feel good about me .”
“Ei.” Katsuki murmurs, “You’re pretty.”
The laugh that falls out of Eijirou’s mouth is more of a sob. “That’s so easy to say isn’t it? But I’m not, I’m ugly, boring, weak. God I’m just so tired of people seeing me.”
Katsuki frowns hard, “You aren’t weak, you aren’t ugly, you aren’t boring. People love you Eijirou, it’s a mess out there, everyone is wondering where Red Riot is.”
Eijirou sighs, pressing his wet eyes closed. “ I feel weak, Katsuki, what kind of hero lets himself fall victim to a gossip magazine?”
“That stuff is bullshit, Ei.” Katsuki growls. Then he smiles, that looks a little like a grimace. “And I know, me saying that is pretty flimsy, I can’t do anything but tell you how perfect you are. Hero, person, face, everything.” he stands up, peeling off his jacket. “Scootch over.”
“I haven’t showered in three days.” Eijirou croaks. Katsuki scoffs, yanking at the blankets until Eijirou relents and opens his arm. Katsuki ducks under it, crawling into the bed and wrapping his arms around Eijirou.
“Shoulda brought the others.” Katsuki mumbles, “I suck at this shit, but I swear I’ll tell you as long as it takes for you to see how wonderful you are.”
Laughing softly, Eijirou tucks his face into Katsuki’s shoulder, “Might take some time.”
“Bring it on.”
Silence falls over them. Eijirou considers how he feels, like shit honestly. His mind is only slightly quieter, and eventually he’s going to have to get up and be a hero again.
“I think maybe I should consider therapy.” he whispers, a little afraid to say the words. Katsuki rubs a hand up his back.
“S’not so bad. Whatever you need to do, I’ve got your back.”
“Thank you. Sorry, for being a mess. I’ll get back to it tomorrow.”
He gets pinched hard for that, “You said yourself, nothing wrong with taking time to feel good.”
Eijirou nods, letting himself get comfortable until Katsuki pats at his head. “If I made you food, what would you eat?”
“I’ll eat whatever?”
“No, what do you want to eat? I’ve seen you struggling with eating, but three days without food? That’s not good, Ei. So, what can I make you?”
“I really want a bagel.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.”