Work it Out - KiriKami

20 ~ Don't Stay Away

image cred: casuallamppastapizza

Eijirou had a plan. Kind of.

Okay, it wasn't a plan plan — he wasn't Iida with a 12-step operation and backup contingencies — but it was a feeling in his gut that told him: Denki needs to know we're okay. That we're not broken.

And more importantly, that Denki wasn't broken either.

So here he was, standing awkwardly in front of Mina's door with a handful of mismatched markers, a beat-up pair of scissors, and two half-empty rolls of washi tape. An old shoe box he found under his bed was tucked beneath his arm.

Mina blinked at him when she opened the door. "Uh. Planning arts and crafts or a murder?"

Eijirou huffed a laugh. "Neither. I wanna make something. For Denki."

Her grin bloomed instantly. "Awwww. What kind of something?"

"I don't know yet," he admitted, stepping inside. "But I want it to say... I'm still here. We're still us. Even if things are a little broken."

She softened at that. "That's really sweet, Eiji."

He shrugged, setting everything down on her desk. "He still needs space to think and figure his personal shit out, so I haven't really been reaching out much. But I also want to give him something that says I get it. That he's not alone, that we're okay. I'll leave it in his room while he's with his tutor. I have his spare key card. He's always losing his so Aizawa gave him a second one to keep as a backup."

Mina nodded seriously. "Let's make him something awesome."

°•. ✿ .•°

Hours later, Denki walked into his room after a long study session in the library. His bag hit the floor with a tired thud. He didn't notice the small box on his bed until he turned around to close the door.

It was wrapped in gold tissue paper and taped in an almost absurd number of places. A single sticky note was stuck to the top.

"No pressure to open this now. Just wanted you to have something that felt like us again. –E"

Denki sat down slowly. His hands hovered over the box for a second before carefully peeling it open.

Inside was a mess of things:

A mini notebook, the first few pages filled with tiny encouraging notes and dumb jokes.

A strip of photo booth pictures from the arcade trip they'd gone on months ago — the one where Denki's hair had been staticky the whole time, and Eijirou's headband was crooked.

A bracelet made from cheap red and yellow beads, the string tied with clumsy knots.

And at the very bottom, a folded card, hand-drawn lightning bolts and hearts in the margins.

Denki hesitated for a long moment before unfolding it.

"I miss holding your hand. But more than that, I miss seeing you happy. I'll wait until you're ready. But when you are... I'll be here, no questions, no expectations, just love. Always."

His breath caught in his throat.

The words weren't fancy. They weren't poetic. But they were unmistakably Eijirou — honest and warm and so stupidly loyal that it hurt.

Denki pressed the note to his chest, curling around it like it was something fragile and sacred.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel alone.

°•. ✿ .•°

The dorm halls were quiet. Most of Class 1-A had either gone to bed or disappeared behind closed doors, and the gentle hum of nighttime filled the spaces between footsteps and whispers.

Denki stood in front of Eijirou's room, his hand hovering just inches from the door.

He'd read the notes twice. Then a third time.

He didn't know what he was going to say. Just that he couldn't sit in his room anymore without hearing Eijirou's voice.

He finally knocked — soft, hesitant, but purposeful.

There was a shuffling sound, a pause, then the door cracked open.

Eijirou's eyes lit up immediately. "Hey," he said, voice low, like he was afraid too much warmth might scare Denki off.

"Can I...?" Denki glanced inside, unsure how to finish the sentence.

Eijirou stepped back without question, holding the door wide. "Yeah. Of course."

Denki walked in slowly. The room smelled like eucalyptus and laundry detergent. It was warm in the way Denki remembered — like Eijirou himself. Safe, if a little overwhelming right now.

They didn't sit too close. Denki perched on the edge of the bed. Eijirou settled on the floor nearby, leaning his back against the mattress like he was giving Denki the high ground.

Neither of them spoke right away. Denki was the one to break the silence.

"I don't... I don't need you to stay away."

Eijirou blinked up at him. "Okay."

"I mean, I said I needed space. But it's not like — I don't want to be alone."

"Okay," Eijirou said again, voice gentle and careful.

"It's not physical space I need." Denki fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie. "It's... emotional space. Kinda."

Eijirou tilted his head. "What does that mean? Like... you want me around, but—?"

"But I can't talk about stuff yet." Denki's voice cracked just a little. "Not all of it. Not even to you."

Realization flickered in Eijirou's eyes — and not a single trace of hurt followed. Just understanding. And something softer. Protective.

"You don't have to," Eijirou said, voice steady. "I'm not gonna ask. Not unless you want to talk."

Denki let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "I need... time to work through it with Makoto-san first," he added. "I'm not hiding anything from you. I'm just not ready to share it yet."

"That's okay," Eijirou said. "Seriously. I'm not here to fix anything. I'm just here."

Denki glanced at him, eyes glassy, but not crying. "That's all I need. Just you. No fixing. Just... you. Sometimes I'll need time alone to work on myself, but you don't have to go out of your way to give me space anymore."

Eijirou reached up, resting his hand palm-up on the bed near Denki's knee — an open offer, not a request.

Denki slid his hand into Eijirou's without a word.

They sat like that for a while. Fingers curled together. No pressure. No questions. Just quiet, breathing in the same rhythm.

Eventually, Denki scooted down from the mattress and curled up beside Eijirou on the floor. Eijirou wordlessly shifted to make room and pulled the blanket off his bed, draping it over both of them.

Neither of them said anything more. Not until the warmth between them started to blur the edges of consciousness.

"I'm still really messed up," Denki murmured.

"Yeah," Eijirou whispered. "But you're still really loved, too."

Denki didn't respond, but Eijirou felt the way his fingers squeezed tighter.

And later, when sleep finally took them both — shoulder to shoulder, blanket tangled around their legs — Denki dreamt of being stranded in the ocean. Not drowning in it, just floating.