bnha oneshots (vol 1)

032 ⋆ will you catch me when I fall? 🌸🖤

ship: todokiri

for todokiri week! the prompt for Day 2 was Scars!

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Eijirou remembers one of the nights he and his boyfriend stayed up to watch the stars.

It was during the first week they'd moved in after they finished unpacking and putting their knick knacks and other memorabilia in place. It was hot, typical for a summer night, though Shouto's lucky enough not to experience its wrath with his blessed quirk and all. Eijirou himself had just finished a cold shower when he found Shouto leaned up against the patio staring off into the distance. He hadn't found it odd at first; they had a pretty great view of the city thanks to Shouto's status in the hero industry, though he'd been iffy about it since they first moved in.

Eijirou waited to clothe himself before stepping out onto the patio, the air stuffy and warm against his dampened skin. He remembers vividly the look in Sho's eyes when he leaned up next to him—lost, uncertain.

"You okay, babe?" Eijirou asked then. Shouto lagged before meeting his gaze half-heartedly.

"Yeah," he replied too softly, too quiet. Shouto looked as if he had more to add, but ignored it in favor of letting his attention fall to the bustle of the street below them. Eijirou copied him, gazing down. The lights were so pretty that night, so lively.

"It's so nice up here," comments Eijirou. "It's so high up—you can see everything from here."

Shouto hummed, "High," echoed solemnly. He turned. "Hey..."

"Yeah, babe?"

"Will you..." Shouto pauses, hesitates, fist curling on the railing whilst he leers to the side. He took a breath, swallowed the air, then let it pass through his lips in a wave. "Will you be there to catch me when I fall?"

Eijirou didn't understand his question back then, or at least not in the way Shouto intended. He answered with, "Yeah, of course," and though they hugged after that, Eijirou could feel the dissatisfaction bleeding through his chest.

Today, he finally gets it.

It's not falling in a literal sense, like falling off a building (or the bed, whenever Eijirou accidentally kicks him off). It's a mental fall—a drop so sudden it leaves one plummeting to seemingly no end. It starts off as something minor: forgetting keys, wallets, a piece to his hero suit, always met with quick glances and murmured apologizes.

Then comes irritation—snide remarks, glares, and petty jabs one could easily pass off as waking up on the wrong side of the bed (or the floor, in most cases). Eijirou takes those in stride; he's seasoned in dealing with irritable people, be it old folks who didn't "need" to be saved, the barista that serves his coffee, or his own Bakugou Katsuki.

The "blank" state is Eijirou's least favorite, wherein Shouto is more quiet than he usually is, less affectionate whether it's giving or receiving, or wanting to be alone more often. The most he'd ask for is space, if anything, and Eijirou is always more than happy to give it to him despite the twinge of pain his heart gives in response. These consist of boring days and lonely nights, sleeping on the couch watching late night talk shows until they're watching him instead. Eijirou wakes to a cooling cup of coffee in the morning, two sugars and a quarter creamer just the way he likes it—muted reassurance.

By then, Shouto's already at work and Eijirou sips his drink longingly.

It's not until a few days later that everything clicks into place so meticulously, much like the pins of the lock Eijirou jabs his key into after a long night of work. He's out of his first boot when he's being hugged tightly from behind, frosty hands balling into fists against his chest as a face burrows itself in his neck. Eijirou opens his mouth, closes it when he feels warmth on his shoulder as Shouto's body racks with a stifled sob.

Eijirou's voice comes out a soft, "Shou?" and the arms around his body tighten impossibly. He feels Shouto shake his head and shudder.

It's a struggle to peel him off, to force his lover to face him with skin pale and split hair hanging low in his face. "Talk to me," Eijirou begs, "please," but to no avail. Shouto shakes his head again, faster, body trembling, face wet, lips pressed in a wobbly line. Where Shouto pushes, Eijirou pulls, and it's back and forth from there until Shouto frees himself and pulls Eijirou close again.

And oh, now he gets it. This is the fall, the bitter bitch she is.

"Okay, okay," Eijirou coos as he smooths a hand down his boyfriend's hair, threads his fingers into it to hold him closer and whispers, "It's okay, I'm here. I'll always be here."

Shouto cries harder for reasons untold, but its meaning is heard loud and clear. Eijirou holds him through the worst of it, then when he's calmed down enough, pulls away to shuck from his hero gear and coax him towards their room. There they lie in darkness, lights off and curtains drawn, hidden beneath the covers as if it weren't just the two of them. It's there Shouto lies with eyes shut so tight that stars shoot across his vision and it feels so unnaturally cold.

But Eijirou is there, too.

He feels him—his warmth—closing in on him, swaddling him in its heat. It's a thumb wiping the tears from his eyes, the hand stroking his wet cheeks and carding through his hair; the calm breaths that rival his staccato, a kiss or two—one that just misses his scar and the other that doesn't. Shouto finds peace in the gentle thrum of a heart beneath his ear, and gradually, his matches its pace, too.