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It was clear something was off about Mirio. His smiles faker then a Walmart discount and constant hoodies, even though it was summertime, piqued Tamaki's interest and concern. When he talked to Nejire, she agreed that he'd been acting different. Now that the issue was raised, neither would rest until they knew what was wrong. Oh, what they wouldn't do just to help their friend.
Normally, Mirio is full of passion and determination. Normally, Mirio was all smiles and the purest kind of love. But "normal" is gone now, because he's not okay and that's clear in the way he hides his arms, doesn't spring to answer questions, not returning nighteye's calls. But that doesn't mean they leave their friend. If anything, it meant they get closer and help. They'll stay with Mirio for the rough patch and get him out, hopefully, weather that entail therapy or just listening to him. Solidarity, right?
If Mirio's the sun, it must be one heck of a cloudy day. Tamaki muses as Mirio focuses the conversation on classwork instead of the movie they wanna go see this weekend, or the land they wanna explore. It's clear something more permanent has taken root of Mirio's positivity and strangling it, like a vine constricting the very energy of Mirio. But Nejire and Tamaki are not giving in that easy. It's clear their friend is hurting, and they're not gonna leave him because his muscle of positivity seems to need a little more exercise right now.
This is gonna get better. Nejire tells herself as Mirio brushes her off with a, "I've gotta get to class, sorry." It has to. He's Mirio after all. A setback for him is an opportunity. Nejire and Tamaki just need to figure out how to make it one. Later that day, they catch Mirio, head between his legs, and shoulder shaking in muffled sobs after school. Tamaki rubs his back and Nejire assures him with a "Hey hey, don't worry, we all have bad times. We really are here for you, ya know." They are determined to show Mirio even the sun burns out.
They stick by his side, even when he shows them his arms. They wipe his tears, not expecting false happiness but beautiful, real, emotions and conversations. Sure, Mirio's head is... dark, to say the least, but that doesn't mean- "Stop. Just stop!" Mirio yells, when he's had enough of the help and dusting to the cobwebs in his head. "People aren't just things to fix. We can fix the world and hero society and everything else, but you can't fix me!" It was at this point Nejire and Tamaki didn't know what to say to learning how deep the trench of depression ran in their seemingly happy friend. So instead of words, Tamaki just gives him a hug that Nejire joins, hoping beyond reason it could somehow hold together the broken peices.
So sure, Mirio's struggling in a way word's can't quite capture, everything he does is an effort, and the world feels like the color got drained. But maybe when Tamaki says, "We don't need to fix you. We need you, and you've been gone for a while. We don't need fake smiles or hopeless positivity,because that's pointless." His eyes are tearing up from how warm his friend's devotion is, and how awesome it is to think he has friends who know him now, but the waterworks start when Nejire adds, "We need our friend because he means a lot, not because of his optimism." And even though he's definitely not better, and even though it seems hope is lost, he's been reminded he's not alone in this fight. After all, when rock bottom is hit, you can only go up.
So maybe there's relapses that leave Mirio feeling sick and alone. But Tamaki notices and takes all of Mirio's sharp objects away before offering to watch some Disney movie while cuddling or play a board game to distract him while they talk about it. Improvements are made every day.
And maybe when he can't quite find the motivation to do anything so he just lays in bed, Nejire takes him outside so he can get fresh air and and remember life always finds a way to survive. Or maybe she lays with him, just for the fun of snuggling and making sure he's not alone, and he knows that no matter how bad he gets there's a way to get better.
Maybe they each hold one of his hands while taking him into therapy for the first time, letting him know he's not alone. They give him the choice of them waiting out in the lobby or going back with him, and he takes the latter for the support it'll give and so they can hear his story. And maybe they don't wanna talk about it when they get home, so they just snuggle together while it rains outside, and wake up that way hours later.