2am Knows All Secrets [Kiribaku]

pitch-black nights

His heart felt empty.

No warmth of his comforter nor squeezing of his pillow between his arms was enough to fill it. Words swam around in lazy circles in his head, heavy and gray, feeding his anxiety and making his lungs ache with every shaky snivel.

"I can't depend on anyone except myself."

They had talked that morning, just a few minutes longer. Well, Bakugou had talked, Eijirou had listened, every word chiseling away at his heart.

"I'm stronger than this."

Even hours later, with the setting sun painting his room in golds and burnt oranges, the memory still rang clear in Eijirou's head, again and again like a broken record.

"I need to do this on my own."

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

On his own.

But Eijirou didn't want to be on his own, 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 puffed against his skin and lulled him to sleep. He wanted to know what it would be like to fall asleep next to him as something more than friends, wondered what it would be like to wake up feeling a soft palm against his own, fingers intertwined with his, lips against his, lips that would be soft and rough and lazy all at once—

He hid even further under his blankets, the shame suffocating him.

He felt like crying. Maybe he already was, he didn't really know, but there was this perpetual thrumming ache in his chest that hadn't gone away even though it had been hours, and his breath kept catching roughly in his throat, and for a moment, Eijirou wondered if he was heartbroken. But every feeling was so raw and so real and so much that they didn't leave a lot of room for wondering. He was heartbroken. Plain and simple.

Bakugou needed this, Eijirou reminded himself. He needed the space.

No!, another part of him wanted to shout, Bakugou needed help. Eijirou knew he did. But what good was help if Bakugou refused to accept it?

Eijirou sighed.

If only he were asleep, at least then he wouldn't be stuck fixating on this. He wouldn't have to feel his stomach growling away, protesting a day of neglect because he hadn't wanted to deal with the kitchen or the cafeteria or other people that day. At least then, he'd be well-rested in the morning for their first day of classes.

But even with the sun hours below the horizon and the sky darkened into an inky black, the thoughts in Eijirou's head refused to abate. He had to stay up. What if Bakugou had another nightmare? What then?

Well, it wouldn't really matter, would it? If Bakugou did wake up shouting and cursing with his quirk burning up the night, Eijirou wouldn't be able to help. But he had to know.

One o'clock passed. It crawled, slow and agonizing, but it passed. Then two o'clock, then three o'clock, without so much as a pop from the other side of his wall, and, well. Maybe Bakugou didn't need him, after all.

And, damn, that hurt even more.

Eijirou tightened his covers around him. Maybe, if he made himself small enough, he would disappear into his comforter completely.

As morning approached, sleep finally came in restless bursts, Eijirou phasing in and out of consciousness all the while staying keenly aware of a lack of something even when he wasn't fully awake. And when his alarm blared out in the quiet streams of sunlight, rousing him from his fitful sleep, he still felt miserable. Being awake was a burden and existence was pain. And it was the start of a new term today, too!