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 respectable 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.
YOU ARE READING
2am Knows All Secrets
Fanfiction... It wasn't that he was annoyed. Okay, maybe he was a little annoyed, but that was just the lack of sleep talking. Because a certain explosive punk thought it was a good idea to test the flammability of his sheets at 2 in the morning. Every single...
