A knife slices through the nervous silence.
It's difficult to remember his mantra of no regrets and living life to the fullest when he's certain that Mitsuki could cut him into pieces without even noticing. He hesitates on the boundary of the Bakugous' kitchen as she ruthlessly dices vegetables, unsure if his request would be overstepping.
No matter how many times he looked at the situation, it came down to this - Bakugou's troubled by something he won't speak about.
He shrouds the specifics in smoke, enforcing silence with acrid denial when asked. It seemed only those closest to the blonde, his parents and childhood friend, could cut through the thunderous storm of defense that kept Bakugou at its center. There are some storms you have to weather alone - but Eijirou had been there that night, glimpsing through the defensive denial to find his friend hurting. He'd be a lame excuse of a man to ignore that.
The knife stills against the chopping board. "Stop hovering, kid." Mitsuki's red eyes slash upwards and she waves him closer. "What do you want?"
He's long used to the directness but still has to push himself to answer. "Please tell me Bakugous' measurements!"
"Hm?" Mitsuki asks amused. "The hell do you need those for?"
Once he had decided to help Bakugou, the plan fizzled out from there. Eijirou had always been better pointed and fired somewhere than sitting down to agonize over a plan, but sat and agonized he had over this solution. "I know Bakugou isn't the social type, but there's a party on the island that his friends would be going to. I wanted to…I want to show him that no matter what he's dealing with, we've got his back."
Mitsuki's dismissive noise surprises him. "If that brat is making you pity him, then ignore it. He brought this on himself."
The implication she throws out doesn't fit with what he's seen. Bakugou may be brash and loud but he kept his emotions far from his judgment, it wouldn't make sense to cause himself that much distress.
"Uh, he hasn't told anyone what happened." He points out uneasily. The only reason he's aware of anything amiss is because Bakugou had been affected enough to accept comfort. He continues warily, "It's…a formal party. There's no way Bakugou would pack his own suit, so I was hoping to pick one up for him."
Mitsuki glances at his attire, as if she can see the previous owners of his hoodie in its fraying edges and sun bleached patches. "Don't waste money on my son." She denies. "Did you forget that my husband is the best in the business? Masaru can make him a damn suit."
She smiles, sharp as the knife she flicks to dismiss him.
The academic break finally arrived and not a moment too soon for the exhausted students of UA's hero course.
Class 1-A mostly returned home for the reprise, while those invited abroad had been able to access the expo early. Either to learn the ropes of their employment, like Kaminari and Mineta, or to enjoy the island before guests arrived as the richer families of Todoroki, Iida and Yaoyorozu had the pleasure to.
The morning of the island officially opening to guests, Eijirou snorts awake as his dorm door gets kicked off its hinges. "Wh-?" He slurs, squinting at the blurry figure that stomps inside and rips open his curtains. He groans as an awful amount of early sunlight attacks his eyes.
"Wake the fuck up."
"No." Eijirou whines pitifully.
A beat, then unforgiving muscular arms wrap over his waist to try heaving him off the bed. "The fuck you so heavy for?" Bakugou mutters in confusion as his tactic changes to yank him onto the floor, dragging him into the attached bathroom. "Get ready or die." He threatens, stepping on Eijirou's chest with a solid wheeze as he leaves.
Grumpy with sleep, the redhead slides into the shower and slumps into fresh clothes before trudging to the room quaking with loud music. The blasting bass doesn't deter him from collapsing onto Bakugou's bed with a barely conscious groan, it's frame shaking with reverb.
Attempting to stay awake, he shifts to his side and watches Bakugou triple-check everything from important documents to socks, darting between their two suitcases.
"Oh."
"What did you forget?" Bakugou asks, unsurprised.
"I haven't told anyone that I'm going." Eijirou realizes. The excuse that it was a sore topic in their friend group had allowed him to happily avoid mentioning it - but now, there are only moments before Bakugou's parents drive them to the airport and he still hasn't said a word.
Out of everyone, there is one person he must tell and guiltily opens their chat.
MINA (PINKY!)
Ei: sorry to say it so late but i won't be able to make it to the meet up over the holidays! (｡•́︿•̀｡)
Mina: what? why? we spent so long planning it! ( ≧Д≦)
Ei: i know, i know! im sorry, its just that I got invited to I-island and it would be so unmanly to back out now. especially after how much effort went into making it possible ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ
Mina: ... you got invited?
Ei: yeah! bakugou asked me to come as his plus one
Immediately his phone starts ringing. A bit startled, he rejects the call and stares as her name flashes across the screen. "Uh." His stalling makes Bakugou glance over. "Mina's trying to call me."
"Tell her to fuck off." Bakugou mutters, turning away.
"I'm not doing that." Eijirou reminds lightly even as he switches his phone off with a sigh. "She's upset that I'm going without her, it's why I didn't tell anyone…" Guilt swells inside him, aware how much his friend wanted to go but not offering his own ticket.
It's not manly to admit but he already knows his selfish reasons for clinging to his invite. Going on a plane, travelling to an island for the first time, it's new and exciting and best of all is that Bakugou would be by his side for everything.
Flicking his phone charms, he looks to Bakugou where he'd been considering Eijirou sprawled out and complaining on his bed. "If she can't handle jealousy, that's her own problem." He sends off a rapid text before shoving his phone away. "They're downstairs, carry your own shit."
Eijirou beats him to it and lifts both their cases with an easy grin. "Got 'em!" They're not light, so he's pretty sure Bakugou found a way to get his gauntlets approved for travel. "Dude, did you pack all your gear?"
"You think this was a holiday or something?" Bakugou barks out, swinging his door shut behind them.
Stumbling with bags, they enter the common room to find Mitsuki talking to Aizawa. He looks like he'd rather be anywhere else than awake and dealing with generations of Bakugous.
"Oi, brat! Get over here, your teacher's been telling me shit." Mitsuki's voice whips across the space and Bakugou lashes upright with a snarl. Her lips twist in amusement when taking in Eijirou's clothes and his gut curls with embarrassment. On this special day he wanted to wear a Crimson Riot hoodie to celebrate which was pretty lame to do, now that he thought about it.
"Masaru's outside with the car, go on ahead." Mitsuki says in clear dismissal, her hand heavy on Bakugou's slumped shoulder. Whatever was going to be talked about wasn't for him to hear. He nods, making his way down the steps to find Masaru's welcoming smile.
Quietly they work together to load the cases inside the car boot, until Masaru taps his nose secretively and gestures for Eijirou to open his case before they can be interrupted.
"Woah!" He exclaims as Masaru reveals two suits on hangers. The charcoal colored material shines with threads woven together in elaborate stitchwork. "They look amazing! It's smart to make two as well, in case Bakugou blows one up." He praises excitedly, absorbed in the artistic designs.
"Actually, this one is for you." Masaru chuckles, offering out the plainer suit.
Carefully keeping his quirk at bay, he smooths his hand across the custom piece in awe. "I don't understand." He admits, that guilt whirling faster. Not only was he taking Mina's space on this trip but now a suit had been tailored for him.
"Understand…how we got your measurements?" Masaru hums, folding the suits gently into the case and clicking the locks shut. "Katsuki used to watch me work when he was younger. I think enough time around models and measuring tapes gave him the ability to find someone's size at a glance." He smiles a bit. "Though, he tends to size them for fights nowadays."
Eijirou shares the wry smile, knowing that to be true. Bakugou always seemed to know the force needed to knock an opponent over, but he never would have guessed the skill came from watching his father work.
"Katsuki wouldn't tell us your measurements, but Mitsuki managed to find them in his Hero notebook." Masaru explains, closing the boot and securing everything down as Eijirou flounders in surprise.
After all the complaints made against Midoriya, to hear that Bakugou had his own version of a Hero notebook was…well, it was adorable. Was it something they both did as kids? So cute! His amusement fades as his swirling guilt hits again, realizing that something so private had been rifled through at Eijirou's expense.
"Wow, well…you really shouldn't have." He compromises as a thought taunts him - Bakugou must have looked at Eijirou, long enough to size him up.
A match to an oil spill, flames engulf his face as he races through his memories. When had this happened? Where? At the gym or during training? Even at his finest his appearance is a mess, but if he'd known Bakugou had been looking then he would have made an effort.
Frantically he tries to douse those burning thoughts, as the remaining Bakugous' arrive with loud shouts of "Brat!" and "Hag!" before doors slam in sync. Masaru shares an understanding look and pats his arm sympathetically.
This might be a very long car ride.
"You too weak for the plane?" Bakugou asks impatiently, dropping a cool bottle of water into his clammy hands and he presses it to his flushed forehead thankfully.
Taking cautious sips, he tries to sound reassuring. "As long as it's not your dad driving the plane, I'll be fine. Was it even legal to go that fast!?" He had no idea how the meek Masaru could be a secret street racer, cutting corners and flooring down empty stretches.
Bakugou shrugs, unconcerned. "It was the speed limit."
Oh, that's alright then. Shaking his head, he pulls himself together and faces the imposing airport entrance. Even this early it's a hive of activity, as people either linger around for a taxi or sprint ahead to catch their plane. Inside, he blinks up at the bright boards scrolling with locations and a crackling speaker announces the departing flights.
Already overwhelmed, he follows the path that Bakugou clears as he takes it all in. When he trails behind, warm fingers wrap over his wrist to pull him along. Just a second or two, but it leaves his skin buzzing.
"Our gate is at the far end of the airport, so keep up." Bakugou excuses as he releases his hold and strides ahead.
Eijirou pouts, picking up his pace to match. "Can't you just y'know…" He mimics a series of booming sounds and jabs his arm out like a propulsion.
The display gets him an incredibly unimpressed look. "No quirk use in an airport, dumbass. It's the first rule." Passing by a wire rack of leaflets, he snorts and hands Eijirou a bright red one with a bubbly title 'Your Quirk In An Airport!'
Eijirou laughs but scans through the passages as Bakugou directs them through the airport process. Turns out, there's a lot he should have read up on before arriving. 'Please wear quirk repression sleeves if you have the following quirks…' he frowns at the long list.
Between his sister using them to manage her quirk and his father's mandated ones, he'd seen his share of quirk repression aids - the worst are the sleeves. Functioning the same as villain capture cuffs, they wrap around the forearms and squeeze painfully tight like a blood pressure band.
He winces, recalling his sisters sore and bruised arms after wearing them and then winces again when Bakugou jabs his shoulder in agitation.
"Sorry man, got lost in thought." He apologizes, taking in that they were approaching the front of a line.
"It was like shouting at a brick wall for fucking hours." Bakugou's words come surprisingly harsh and Eijirou looks for the source of discomfort. Ahead of them is a large metal frame that passengers walk through, occasionally beeping as someone is pulled aside by guards.
"Are you…scared of flying?" He guesses as they reach the front of the line.
"Flying is easy." Bakugou says, shoulders hunching as they get called forwards. "This part fucking sucks."
All he can do is watch as his friend strides through the metal frame and alarms begin to blare at a staggering volume. Security guards rush forwards and Bakugou raises his palms, low and surrendering.
"What's going on?" Eijirou trips over his tongue to ask, already moving to intervene. His confusion soars into panic as Bakugou gets taken away, out of his line of sight. "Hey! What are you doing to-?"
"Next, please." An unconcerned guard at the gate says, gesturing him through the metal frame and it remains silent as he races to the other side. His heart slams against his ribcage as he searches for Bakugou, not knowing what direction he went or why there were so many guards around him. "Sir, you have to move through this section."
"My friend - my friend was taken." Eijirou's voice tremors, scrubbing at his teary eyes to keep looking. He flinches back when the guard touches his arm, trying to get him to move along. "I can't leave him!"
The guard sighs, pointing him down the hallway. "His quirk set off our sensors, so we just have to ask him some questions. He'll be fine, please move to the waiting area." He nods shakily and follows the signage to the space with walls of glass, allowing a view of the planes taking off. Other passengers shift uncomfortably as he paces and his leg bounces with nervous energy when he eventually sits.
Why didn't he prepare for this? Those blaring alarms sent him right back to standing uselessly in a classroom, while Bakugou was being hunted down by villains and unable to do anything. He leaps up to pace again.
"Hey." Comes the muted voice behind him and he whips around. Bakugou's shoulders droop and his head hangs low but otherwise, safe. Eijirou exhales and crosses the space to crush Bakugou into his chest, surprising a sound from him. "The hell are you-?" The angry remark cuts itself off in realization and a cool palm rests on Eijirou's back with a quiet assurance. "I'm fine."
"Right! Yeah, of course you are!" Eijirou agrees, his cheerful voice still shaken. He pulls back, running his hands down Bakugou's arms in apology for overreacting. His heart stills at the sight of two white quirk repression sleeves squeezing tight over his friends' forearms. "Aw man … I'm so sorry, those have got to hurt."
Bakugou's eyes narrow and that's when Eijirou notices the missing heat of his skin, the absent burning caramel aroma his quirk released. "No, it doesn't." His friend denies, stepping away to slump into a seat.
Eijirou remembers his sister smoothing ointment over her bruises and wonders how often Bakugou claimed to not be in pain. "Its okay, I think I saw you pack like eighty jars of tiger rub."
The blonde huffs a laugh but doesn't refute it, changing the subject swiftly. "No signal on the plane, so say your final words."
"Do you have to phrase it like that?" He complains as his friend smirks. Switching his phone on makes it buzz with hundreds of messages and he sends a cheery goodbye in his family chat before opening an interesting image from Mina - a message to her from Bakugou.
Bakugou: You can have him back in a week. Now fuck off.
It's big news that the UA Sports Festival winner had arrived on the island. Their lantern lit path up to the hotel has holographs of the incredible fights and a hush falls over the excited reception when they enter. From hotel staff to guests, it seemed everyone wanted a glimpse of the ferocious fighter.
Bakugou hates every moment of it - up until they enter the winners suite. "This isn't bad." He grudgingly admits. The room is insane , sprawling wood floors and windows all the way to the ceiling. The accents are black and orange to match Bakugou's hero outfit and there are even small shrines to other heroes. Eijirou wanders around in awe, before coming to a stop in realization.
"Dude, where am I supposed to sleep?" The hotel must have only prepared for the winner of the festival and not any guests, because there's only one orange bed in the suite. While he'd be fine sharing, he knows Bakugou is the type to need his own space.
"What?" Bakugou's question echoes in the vast room as he stops by Eijirou's side. He looks at the bed, looks around the otherwise empty room and comes to the same realization. "Fuck that." He summarizes, storming back down to the reception.
One convoluted conversation later, it turns out that Bakugou had completely hung up on the hotel when they'd asked if he needed a guest bed. That was months ago and with so few rooms available, there was only one option.
"It's not too late to change your mind." Eijirou suggests as he unpacks, taking in the two double beds shoved into the room with rose patterns spiraling the walls. "I could just sleep on the floor-"
"Like I said, fuck that." Bakugou cuts in, seeming exhausted as he sits on his bed and pulls off the white compression sleeves. "You'd take up too much space and become a trip hazard." He mutters, a jar lid unscrewing as the smell of ointment fills the air.
"I really hate those things." Eijirou finds himself saying.
"The hell would you know? Your quirk doesn't need them." Bakugou defends, but there's a trace of interest beneath the words.
"Emiko wears them to help out with her quirk - you should meet her someday! It's surprising that you haven't already." He trails off then quietly continues, "My dad has to wear them too."
"Has to?" Bakugou asks steadily, his red gaze locked on Eijirou's small nod of agreement. He rubs the balm onto his arms, coming to the correct assumption. "You don't want me to meet him."
"Nope." And unless his dad broke restraining orders, there would never be a chance of that happening. "The only ones in my family you've got to worry about are Emiko and Koji, but they love you already."
Bakugou freezes in his motions, looking at him a little wildly. "What?"
"What?" Eijirou repeats in confusion, thinking he'd missed something. Bakugou clears his throat but doesn't explain and as the long pause draws out, Eijirou eventually scratches his head and shrugs. "Alright… well, I'm going to get changed." He gets a nod, though their eyes don't meet.
When he comes back, the entire room is dark and Bakugou is just a lump under the covers. Eijirou climbs into his own bed and checks some messages as he tries to settle despite that familiar restless energy. There's one that stands out, sent to the groupchat.
Bakugou: [Image attached: Eijirou smiling with his eyes crinkled upwards, giving two goofy thumbs up as sun shines behind him through a small plane window.]
Bakugou: Sun's in my damn eyes.
A warm fluttering fills his chest and he glances across in the dark to the sender. "Bakugou?" He calls over and gets a grunt in return. "Do you ever find it hard to sleep?"
"No." Comes the instant reply, before sheets rustle and Bakugou turns towards him. "Sometimes when the evening news anchors get bored, they'll show Kamino again. It's annoying." It's a small admission and his heart squeezes sympathetically.
"They need new material pretty bad." Eijirou agrees and gets a rough bark of laughter. "They could just play footage of clouds from the sky and it'd be better. It was amazing being that high, is it like that for you all the time -?"
"Get over here." Bakugou cuts him off. "Can't deal with your whispering."
Eijirou doesn't move for a moment in surprise before he carries his covers over and curls on the empty side of Bakugou's bed. He thought he'd been talking at a normal level and now that they're laying side by side, he's too flustered to say anything more.
"Uh…" He tilts his phone towards Bakugou, who squints in the sudden light. "Want to play?"
Bakugou glares against the bright colors but shifts closer to investigate. "This is the shit rotting your brain, huh." He grins at Eijirou's whine of complaint, launching into the specifics of the games history in disagreement. Their hands brush where they balance the screen, heads tilting closer as they get drawn into a competitive two player.
Eijirou makes one too many helpful comments and Bakugou pushes the phone away with annoyance. "Keep me up with that and I'll kill you."
It's as close to a 'goodnight' as he's going to get.
"Night, man." He smiles, waiting as his friend turns his back and seems to fall into a deep slumber. The day had worn them both out, but the itching restless energy won't let Eijirou sleep. He throws his phone over to his own bed, falling back on the mattress hard enough that it bounces.
"Stop moving." Bakugou grinds out.
"Sorry, sorry." Eijirou apologizes and tries to lay still but, a second later he's kicking off the covers to hopefully cool down. Why isn't anything working? If Bakugou doesn't like Eijirou moving then he's really not going to like it if he gets up to run around the room. He twists side to side, before laying on his back again with a sigh.
A flash of movement and then Bakugou's elbow digs into his chest, his looming terrifying face lit by a glowing white palm. He must be too tired to finish his threat though, the sparks dimming as his eyes droop with exhaustion, crashing all at once.
"Bakugou?" He whispers, reaching out to shake the blondes shoulder and laughs quietly when there's no response. Drawing his hand back, his fingers bump into Katsuki's half curled fist - full of explosive energy and directly over his ribcage.
Fear from the threat must explain his pounding heart. Tiredness must be why he decides it's nice to see Bakugou's fist curled loosely on his chest. There's no reason why the slow rise and fall of Bakugou's shoulders fills him with a sense of safety, though.
No reason at all for why he'd just called his friend Katsuki inside his own head.