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Hitoshi is tired, but that's nothing new.
He's never fallen asleep on the bleachers before today though, and the passing out in class is new.
His eyes keep sliding shut, and when they snap back open, his vision blurs and doubles and sways until it's spiraled back into place.
His head is pounding, an insistent throb in the middle of his forehead, right between his drifting eyes. The universe seems to sway on its axis a little and Hitoshi catches himself just before he falls out of the desk and—
"Good afternoon~♪"
Hitoshi's eyes dart up to the doorway and it takes a moment for things to sink in.
"I just need to borrow Shinsou for a minute."
And before he can even figure out why Neito is in the General Studies wing, Hitoshi is being carted away by the blond, who's whistling the song from La La Land.
"Whuh?" He mumbles, tripping on nothing at all.
"It felt weird calling you Shinsou," Neito chatters as they pass quickish through classrooms and hallways. "I mean, you're Hito."
Once they're in a quiet spot, Neito turns and his nose is scrunching in concern, but he doesn't really know what to say and how could he even begin scolding Hito when he looked about two seconds from dropping like a rock, dead to the world?
So instead, he slides an arm around the shoulders of his oldest and dearest friend and walks them to the school library.
The corner with the encyclopedias is Hitoshi's favorite because he appreciates the way they're all the same size, standing straight and proud in their alphabetical precision. There's no debate or opinion in them, only concrete fact and accompanying pictures.
It helps that the spines all line up just so to paint a spread of the galaxy that makes him feel small, smaller than the dust that drifts softly through the warm air of the library. It feels good, being that small, because no one is looking at him. No one is judging him. No one is expecting anything of him.
There's a reason the boys love stargazing.
"Poor Hito." Neito says, his voice way too gentle for the fact that he is quite literally shoving Hitoshi into one of the armchairs that sit tucked away amongst the shelves.
Hitoshi would protest, but his eyes are already closing again. The armchair is soft and squushy, and it feels nice— Beyond nice, actually, to his haggard and aching self.
Better and best of all, Neito is there.
The blond is sitting on the carpet beside the chair, one arm resting on the seat to ensure that Hitoshi doesn't topple off. He's got a book in his lap, "The Scarlet Letter" for the billionth time.
"Shouldn't you get back to class?" Hitoshi mumbles, hoping very much that the answer is no.
Luckily for him, Neito simply pats his shoulder and smiles. "I think I'm needed here, don't you?"
He really does. He really does think so.
It's a strange and funny thing, Hitoshi is thinking, to be skipping class to sleep in the library. He should be studying or training or maybe, hmm, being in class?
But he isn't.
For the first time since he was accepted into UA, Hitoshi isn't pushing himself, isn't trying to do better, isn't trying to be noticed, isn't fighting tooth-and-nail for his dream.
He just...Is.
It feels nice.
Almost as nice as Neito sitting beside him, keeping watch as he thumbs absently through book after book. (There will most definitely be a stack at least six books high by the time anyone comes to look for them.) Almost as nice as Neito's thin fingers gently tracing over his own, a silent "I'm here, don't worry."
Hitoshi doesn't worry.
In fact, he sleeps.
For a long, long time.
Neito sits beside him the entire time and he's just there and he loves it, he absolutely loves this because he gets to be there for Hitoshi.
It's always the other way around and it's making him want to scream with happiness that he gets to protect his best friend for a little while.
But he doesn't scream, because that would wake Hitoshi up.
And he can't have that.