His heart felt empty.

No warmth of the blankets, no cocoon of night, nor amount of squeezing his pillow between his arms was enough to fill it, no matter how hard he tried. Thoughts swam around in circles in his brain, heavy and gray and mind-numbingly meaningless, mixing unpleasantly with the anxiety that made his lungs ache with every shaky snivel.

"I can't allow myself to become dependent on other people."

They had talked, for just a few minutes. Well, Bakugou talked, mostly, and Eijirou listened as every word chiseled away at him a little bit more. Several hours later, and the memory still rang clear in his head, on repeat like a broken record.

"I need to try doing this on my own."

Eijirou pinched his eyes shut, tighter. Clung onto the pillow, tighter.

On his own.

He felt like crying. He probably already was crying, he didn't really know, but there was this perpetual thrumming ache in his head that hadn't gone away even though it had been hours, and his breath kept catching in his throat, and for a moment Eijirou wondered if he was heartbroken. But everything was so real and so much, he knew it was true. He was heartbroken, he was mind-broken, he was all sorts of broken.

He wanted to be with Bakugou. He wanted to feel strong arms around him, wanted to feel soft hair between his fingers as hot, sleepy breaths against his skin lulled him to sleep. He wanted to know what it would be like to sleep next to him knowing that they were friends, knowing that they were something other than friends too, wondered what it would be like to feel a soft palm against his own, fingers intertwined with his, lips against his own, lips that would be soft and rough and lazy all at the same time. He hid even further under his blankets, a feeling of shame enveloping him.

It was stupid, so frustratingly stupid, and it made his heart ache as he had to remind himself, again and again, that it would never, ever happen.

It was painful. It kept him awake, nagging at him, as if he needed any reminders of how absolutely lovesick and absolutely alone he was. He made himself even smaller, hoping he could somehow disappear completely.

This is for Bakugou. He needs this.

His brain took a lot of convincing. If only he were asleep, at least then he wouldn't have to think about this. But a part of him, the loudest part, didn't want him to fall asleep. Not yet. He had to know if there would be a nightmare. It wasn't as if he could help, even if Bakugou did wake up shouting and cursing with his quirk burning up the night, but he had to know.

Two o'clock passed. It was slow and agonizing, but it passed. Then 3 o'clock, without so much as a firecracker, and a shattering thought occurred.

Maybe… maybe Bakugou didn't need him, after all.

That hurt even more.

As the night wore on, Eijirou slept rather restlessly, phasing in and out of consciousness, keenly aware of a lack of something, even when he wasn't truly awake. And when his alarm the next morning blared out into the quiet streams of sunlight, rousing him at last from his fitful sleep, raw misery began seeping into his brain once more. Being awake was becoming more of a burden at this point.

He blinked his eyelids open, feeling the crust of tears trying to stick his lashes shut. And wow, falling asleep crying hadn't been very manly of him. And neither would waking up crying, but if the past 24 hours had taught Eijirou anything, it was that he couldn't always get what he wanted. And then the thought occurred that he was being way too melodramatic about this whole ordeal, but the dull pain of heartache in his chest stopped him from caring.

If Bakugou saw him now, he would probably snort, muttering a 'get a fucking grip, shitty-hair' under his breath.

Oh god. Right, it was a school day. Bakugou would be there. Eijirou wasn't sure if he could face him yet, not after yesterday. The realization that he liked Bakugou – liked liked him – was enough to leave him incredibly flustered and embarrassed, but the added exhaustion and feebleness was just a little too much at the moment.

So there he laid, too tired to turn off the alarm but not tired enough to fall back asleep. He brought his blankets up to cover his head to cover his ears, blocking out the incessant alarm of morning, blocking out the day, the very passing of time itself. And he pouted, just a little bit more, wallowing in the heartbreak and self-pity and all-around pitifulness that consumed him.

There was a knock on the door, so gentle that he almost missed it. Eijirou's thoughts snapped back into himself. He didn't respond - maybe, if he were quiet, the person would go away?

No such luck. The door opened, then closed only a second later. He shuffled further under the pile of covers, making himself small, hiding. The intruder turned off his alarm and sat on his bed, his voice low.

"Hey."

It was Kaminari. Eijirou sunk even lower still, curling into himself, a small hum his only acknowledgement.

"You didn't answer my texts, so I figured something happened. Do you need to talk about it?"

Eijirou shrugged, letting out another hum. I dunno. Even if his body movements and voice were muffled by the blankets, Kaminari seemed to catch his drift.

"You don't have to, man, I'm just checking in on you. Do you think you'll make it to class?"

Despite everything, Eijirou knew that he should. He sighed. "I guess."

The weight on the mattress next to him shifted before lifting from the bed completely. "Then you better hurry up, dude, it's a quarter-to-8."

He hummed again, nodding.

Soft footsteps padded across the room. But before they reached the door, there was a pause.

"I've never been the best at comforting people. Not like you are," Kaminari's voice rung out, weighty, "But you are so used to taking care of other people, that I think sometimes you forget to take care of yourself. So if you need to talk to someone, I'm here for you, Kiri."

Eijirou clung onto his pillow, arms squeezing a little tighter, the gentle words having warmed his heart. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, man. See you in a bit."

The door opened and closed, leaving him alone once more.

Well. He was going to have to face Bakugou at one time or another. And it wasn't like he had confessed already, so he didn't really have anything to be embarrassed about. Eijirou just needed to get the day over with as fast as possible, rip it off like a Band-Aid.

So Eijirou dragged himself out of bed and got ready for the inevitably long day that was ahead of him. Sometimes, he half-expected his elbow to bump into Bakugou's as he brushed his teeth, like it had a few times before. He half-expected to hear a snarky comment about his tedious hair routine as he gelled it up. But there was nothing, like a part of himself was void. Gone.

He glanced in the mirror, quickly, avoiding looking at his sunken face, not caring that his hair and uniform looked slapdash at best. After gathering his things, Eijirou finally headed out for breakfast and training, each step down the stairs making his pulse pick up, his whole brain screaming at him to turn around, to save himself the pain of seeing Bakugou. But if he stayed in bed, he would get behind on work, and he would probably end up thinking himself to death anyways. So he kept walking.

And then, he was in the classroom, and Bakugou was there, sitting one desk over, and… it was bad, but not as bad as he had been expecting. It still hurt, a lot, and constantly, but it was more like a thrumming pain, nothing sharp or too intense. If he tried, Eijirou found that he could ignore the squeezing in his chest, the urge to escape to somewhere far, far away. When he was preoccupied with work, or with talking to his classmates, it melted away to the back-burners of his mind, and it was a lot more bearable there.

So he focused on trying to act as normal as possible. Which… wasn't that simple, actually. Eijirou didn't know what was normal for him anymore. That past week, he had been with Bakugou a lot, but that had been because of the sleepovers, right? And the two of them weren't having sleepovers anymore. So how was Eijirou supposed to act now? After their conversation the previous night, Bakugou probably needed some space, not to mention that Eijirou didn't want to worry him with his uncharacteristic lack of enthusiasm. So with a steely resolve, he settled on remaining friendly while keeping his distance. Maybe that would help distract him, too, shield his heart a little bit more. Numb everything a little bit more.

But it was difficult, not letting his emotions interfere with his schoolwork and interactions with his other friends. He would often find himself looking over to Bakugou in worry, accidentally catching his eye, before turning away quickly. And Bakugou wasn't helping, either. It was probably just his dumb brain singling the blond out of the crowd, but the guy seemed to linger around him, all the time. He kept shuffling closer during training, glancing his way at every opportunity. It made Eijirou jumpy, and nervous, and achingly sad all over again. Bakugou just looked so drained. Worn-out. Lost. And it was probably Eijirou's imagination, but maybe… maybe he looked a little bit sad as well.

The day was exhausting, but Eijirou was managing. But after training, when everyone was heading up to their dorms, Kaminari pulled Eijirou aside in the common room.

"Homework buddies!" he had proclaimed, steering Eijirou toward the stairs before the redhead had a chance to make a break for the privacy of his room. Once out of everyone's earshot, Kaminari's voice turned low in concern, "And, I think talking to someone about what happened would do you some good, too."

Eijirou looked up to him, then out toward the common space that they were leaving behind, eyes briefly falling on Bakugou, who was uncharacteristically sprawled out on a couch. In that moment, he happened to look up as well, and the second their gazes met, Eijirou's heart was swimming, sinking, drowning. He turned back to Kaminari, eyes downcast, nodding.

Kaminari lead him up the staircase to his room, where they each plopped their book-bags on the bed. The blond took a seat, crisscrossed on the floor, his back leaning against the side of the bed. He patted the ground next to him until Eijirou followed suit.

They sat in complete silence for several seconds, neither knowing quite where to start.

"So…" Kaminari began, slowly, as if testing the waters. "You didn't really talk this morning when I came to get you, and you're been off all day. I take it something went wrong?"

Eijirou shrugged, noncommittally. His brain was numb.

"Did he… did he reject you?"

"No, nothing like that…"

At that, Eijirou felt humiliation. This was all so silly. He was being ridiculous. No, he hadn't confessed, no he hadn't been rejected, or broken up with, he was just being a stupid teen with oversensitive emotions. Eijirou planted his feet on the floor, hugging his knees close to his chest. He was so pathetic.

Kaminari wasn't saying anything, allowing him to explain, so Eijirou continued. "I didn't get around to telling him anything, but he… he wants to be alone, to work through some stuff by himself, without me. He's being cautious about relying on people, and I get that, I really do…" he trailed off, defeat filling him. "It just kinda sucks, you know? Because, I dunno…"

"You miss him?"

Eijirou turned away, pouting. "Well, when you say it like that, it sounds dumb. This whole thing is dumb. I hate being a teenager."

"Honestly? Same. Dumb rampant hormones. Dumb increased yet repressed sex drive. Dropping a dumb dumpling on the floor during lunch and then having the urge to cry about it for a few hours. It's the worse."

"Dude." Eijirou blinked. "Should I be worried about you or something?"

"Nope, nope, no no no, don't do that! It's me who should be worrying about you right now," Kaminari slung his arm onto Eijirou's shoulders, as dudes do. "My bro's facing his first heartbreak, he needs to be consoled!"

"Geez, it's not that big of a deal."

"A-ha, but lemme guess," his clicked his tongue, winking as he finger-gunned, "It still hurts, don't it?"

Eijirou looked down with a slow nod. "… It still hurts."

Kaminari had an all-too-knowing glint in his eye. He returned his arm to his own personal space, taking a rather reflective moment to glance into the distance. Finally, he spoke up.

"You're right, though." There was a profound pause, as he seemed to gather his thoughts. When he continued, his voice was strangely airy, enlightened. "Heartbreak isn't really a big deal in itself. But sometimes, I like to think of it as a rite of passage. It happens to everyone eventually, but it's still significant. Some people handle it better than others, especially if they're used to it, like the novelty wears off or something, but it still affects them, and… um… I'm rambling a bit and I literally have no idea what I'm saying, so please feel free to stop me at any time."

"You sound like a poet or philosopher or something."

"Yikes."

Eijirou snorted, appreciating the sudden lighthearted turn the conversation had taken. But then, realizing how strangely calm the words made him, he turned still. "So this is normal, then? All of…" He trailed off, making vague gestures to himself, his head, his heart, "all of this? I still don't like it."

"Dude, not a single person in the world likes having their heart trampled on, you can trust me on that!" Kaminari let out a laugh, but it was dry. Perhaps he was speaking from raw experience?

"So, I take it you've felt broken-hearted before? What happened?"

"Nope, no sir-ee," He shook his head frantically, holding up his hands in objection, "This isn't about me, we're here to work through your tragic misfortunes, not mine!"

"Come on, man, I'm pouring my heart out to you here, you can't just give a half-ass answer like that and leave me hanging."

At that, Kaminari huffed, bringing his hand up to scratch the back of his neck before giving a little wobbly shrug. "... I dunno. Normal stuff, I guess. Disinterest, getting my hopes up over nothing, things like that. It's really embarrassing," his face turned into a grimace, but he seemed to snap out of his reverie quickly. "Meanwhile, you're facing heartache of the unknown! You're in a gray area, you don't have an answer, but you haven't been flat–out rejected yet. Uh, not that you will! Not that you will, just…" his nervous chuckle pricked the still air, "Yeah, sorry, I'm bad at this."

"Not at all. You've helped me a lot, I think." It was the truth. For some strange reason, Kaminari's words truly struck a chord with him. Eijirou smiled warmly, genuinely. "It's nice knowing I'm not alone. Like, someone else out there probably feels the same way I do, right? That's… really comforting."

"Yeah…"

And Eijirou could feel Kaminari watching him, carefully, his smile weakening for just a second before he looked away, his voice turning hollow.

"… Yeah, I know what you mean."

That night, there were no explosions. And again, on Tuesday night, not a peep. It was bittersweet at first. Bakugou didn't need his help anymore, maybe they would never be as close to each other ever again, but that was because he had gotten over his nightmares. That was something to celebrate, right?

Except, as the school days wore on, Bakugou was exhausted, falling asleep in class, acting more and more irritable, and Eijirou began to suspect that he just wasn't sleeping at all. Again. And the bittersweet feeling made way for this depression that was like hopelessness and frustration and gloom all wrapped up into one terribly warped emotion. It was so discouraging, everything he had told Bakugou, the example he had set for him…

It wasn't like Ejirou had been actively trying to change him. In his eyes, Bakugou was pretty much fine as he had been, even if some of his behavior was undeniably problematic. But still, Eijirou wasn't trying to save him from anything, or erase his fiery personality, he was just trying to set a good example, show Bakugou how to treat others with kindness and respect. And, it was incredible, because Bakugou seemed to be making the decision to follow his lead all on his own.

But now, with every worried glance he threw in the blond's direction, a look of concern etched deeper and deeper on Eijirou's face. It was like Bakugou was relapsing, retreating back underneath that mean mask he used to wear, like nothing had happened between them. Nothing had changed. In a way, that was the most upsetting thing of all.

But then, that Wednesday night, he heard them. They were quiet at first, little rumbles that could have been mistaken for any number of things. They woke Eijirou up, though, and with a shudder, he recognized them instantly.

Eijirou bolted upright, his blood turning cold, his lungs becoming ice. His thoughts were screaming, demanding with every breath he took, help, help him, help him, but all he could do was lean against his headboard, bring his knees to his chest, rocking slightly, his breaths coming in and out in heaves, his entire body trembling. The explosions grew in volume, and in urgency, and with a whimper, Eijirou clamped hands over his ears, trying to block out the thoughts, the explosions, and the entire universe along with them. His friend was in pain, suffering, hurting. He could not help. He was so fucking useless.

After a shout from the other side of the wall, there was only silence.

Slowly, so slowly, Eijirou lowered his hands from his head. Let out a shaky breath. His whole body was trembling, so he had to focus on relaxing his muscles, one by one, slowly, in a futile attempt to release tension. He hadn't even realized he had been crying until that moment, touching the wet trails that fell down his cheeks, dripping from his chin. He brought a hand up to wipe them away, trying his best to control the hitching of sobs deep in his throat.

Fucking useless.

He tried his best to fall back asleep, but his pulse was pounding out of control, even several minutes later. Maybe he slept, maybe he didn't, he didn't really know. But the morning came too soon and he had to start the day anew, as if nothing had happened the night before. And in class, Bakugou got worse and worse.

And then, it all happened again Thursday night, leaving him panicking and alone, wishing, desperately, if only I could help. Friday was spent picking up the pieces, trying his best to not fall apart. Trying his best to keep up appearances, even as his heart was breaking over and over again before it had a chance to heal.

"Are you avoiding him?"

Eijirou looked up from his algebra homework. Currently, Kaminari was in his room, and they were working on basic quadratics. He enjoyed it when the two of them hung out, just studying and stuff. It usually helped keep his mind off of everything. But occasionally, he got asked a lot of questions about the very thing he was trying to ignore.

He blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Before last Sunday, you two hung out a lot. Like, other than the sleepovers," the blond shrugged. "It's Friday evening now, and I haven't seen you eat lunch with him once or anything! Did he tell you to stay away or something?"

"No…" Eijirou sighed, closing his textbook and setting it on the floor beside him. "It's not like I'm not trying to avoid him, I just want to give him some breathing room."

"Well, from where I stand… it kinda looks like you just cut him off."

"… Really?"

"Yeah."

Whoops.

Now that Eijirou thought about it, he realized some things. Bakugou had just asked him to stay in his room – he probably hadn't expected to be completely ostracized by Eijirou. Oh man. Oh man. He was messing up again, wasn't he?

He swallowed the lump that was in his throat. "I was just… trying to act normal."

Kaminari nodded, but he seemed to be holding something back, like he was deciding whether to say it or not. He gave a little shrug. "You know, I catch him looking at you a lot. Just, a few times here and there… Kinda makes me think he's lonely. And I can tell that you're lonely, too."

There was a pause, as Kaminari seemed to gauge Eijirou's reaction. The redhead didn't respond, but the pit in his gut opened wider, leaving him feeling more drained than before.

Kaminari looked away, clearing his throat. "Look, I'm not saying you need to get in his business again. If he asked to stop the sleepovers, then you gotta respect that. But that doesn't mean you need to stop hanging out altogether, right? I think you both miss each other, and if you keep this up, it'll only hurt both of you more."

Eijirou sat, a little stunned, deep in thought. "So you think I should act like I did when we were having the sleepovers, just… minus the sleepovers?"

Kaminari nodded. "I know you're still upset, but… Just, be his friend. He needs it, I think."

"You're right… I don't want to lose his friendship just because we don't cuddle anymore. That would be dumb."

"That's exactly what I was thinking."

"Well…" Eijirou sighed, rubbing his temples. "Now I feel shitty. Well. More shitty."

Kaminari snorted. "Hey, hey, you're still figuring yourself out. Maybe you're the one who needs a little space or time or whatever, not just him. Nothing to beat yourself up over."

"Yeah, yeah, maybe you're right."

He was reaching. For something. What was it?

He was reaching. Into the darkness. Where was he? Shadows moved and shifted in ways that weren't quite real, but were real enough to be disturbing. He was flying. He was in the sky, flying, and a scene blossomed and unfolded in the space below him. It was a raging battle. He wanted to fight, but he couldn't. Why couldn't he? He couldn't remember. But he was the only one who could do this. Only him.

He was reaching. Outward, to someone. He was shouting something, a word straining through his vocal chords, ringing in his ears, like an echo, a memory.

He was reaching. Searching, grasping, hoping, for something, but there was nothing. There should be something. A hand. It should be there. Where was it?

He was reaching. Bakugou was there, but falling away, into darkness, away from him. He had missed. He had failed.

The world was burning up, blast after blast detonating, breaking it apart at the seams, growing louder and louder—

Eijirou jerked awake, gasping out ragged breath after ragged breath into the night air. There was sweat on his face and neck and back, making his hair cling to his forehead and his skin feel clammy and absolutely disgusting.

The explosions that had woke him up, Bakugou's explosions, stopped with a shout and an abruptness that signaled the blond's awakening as well. The night fell into near-silence once more, allowing his gasps to be the only sound he could hear. It was deafening.

Tears were brimming on his waterline, falling as they pleased, his brain on repeat, droning on and on, over and over again:

He needs this, Bakugou needs to do this on his own, he said so, he needs this without me, there's nothing I can do, he doesn't need me now…

... But what about me?

Shaky sobs filled the night air, muffled by the pillow that he was so desperately trying to stifle them with. And then, everything compounded. Everything he had been feeling for an entire week, all of the sadness, hopelessness, desperation, fear, it hit him all at once, like a tidal wave, smothering him, taking his breaths away. He felt like he was trapped in his own head, the walls closing in, his thoughts becoming unfocused and gray and it was so so scary, his breathing was not his own, it filled his lungs, exhaled, too quickly, rasping, his entire body shaking, his heart trying to pound out of his chest, but he couldn't feel it. He was gone, his mind melting as absolute panic completely consumed him, oh god, oh god, he was pathetic. He clung onto his sheets, desperately, praying, begging for everything to just stop, make it stop, please, just stop it.

And then, there was a soft knock on the door.