Ouch, I hurt myself with this one.
Three years had gone by fast. Too fast. Hiro found he often forgot the span of time between then and now. In all honesty he sometimes forgot time existed when he thought on the past. He didn't let himself do it much, fearful of worrying his aunt, his friends. Tadashi's friends.
Locking himself away somewhere discreet or quietly in the middle of the night, he enjoyed the memories he had of his older brother. His stupid, selfless older brother. It'd be the early hours of the morning when even the night-life of San Fransokyo decided to call it a night with Baymax packed away in his little dock. He'd toss and turn anywhere from a minute to an hour or two before aggressively throwing the covers back and pacing around. When it was really bad he'd leap straight into his desk chair as quietly as his frustration allowed.
Sometimes he'd go and lay in Tadashi's bed for a while, taking in all of the belongings that Hiro absolutely refused to do anything with. He was usually quite the ass, but on this matter he had been especially stubborn. He didn't want anything of Tadashi's to be taken away. Tadashi's things would stay and so would his memory and nobody dared argue with Hiro on it.
Tonight was one of those nights where he bundled himself in his blanket, knees pressed to his chest, leaning forward in the desk chair as he watch Tadashi's face express a range of emotions from disappointment to despair. He'd asked Baymax to copy the videos to his PC, dodging any and all curious inquiries as to whether it would improve his emotional state or not.
Baymax was the only one who so much as suspected how torn up Hiro remained over the years, which he could happily sigh in relief at. This wasn't for anyone to see. Not the way he still dreamed about Tadashi coming back out of that fire, not the way he buried his face in Tadashi's pillow and inhaled his fading scent like a drug. Certainly not the way he planted his lips over Tadashi's on the screen on nights like these.