(In this AU kirishima has two moms)
Eijiro Kirishima grinned, the familiar scent of his childhood home washing over him as he stepped inside. "I'm home!" he announced, his voice echoing slightly in the warmly lit living room.
"Eijiro!" Two voices responded in unison. Eliza and Lexi Kirishima, his moms, rushed to greet him, engulfing him in a joint hug that squeezed the air from his lungs in a comforting way.
"Look at you, all grown up!" Eliza exclaimed, stepping back to admire him. "You've gotten even more muscular!"
Lexi ruffled his hair. "Glad you could make it for Spring Break, Eiji. We've missed you terribly."
The next few days passed in a blur of comfortable familiarity. They reminisced over old family photos, laughed at embarrassing childhood stories, and even engaged in a fiercely competitive game of board games, fueled by Lexi's famously potent homemade cookies. Eijiro helped with chores around the house, offering his strength wherever it was needed, and enjoyed quiet evenings curled up on the couch, watching movies with his mothers.
He felt relaxed, rejuvenated, and utterly content. This was exactly what he needed after the stresses of hero training at UA. He felt grounded, reminded of the unconditional love that had always been his foundation.
Then, the phone rang.
Eijiro glanced at the caller ID. Denki. He answered with a cheerful, "Hey, man! What's up?"
The voice that came through the speaker was anything but cheerful.
"K-Kirishima?" Denki's voice was shaky, almost a whisper. He sounded terrified.
"Denki? What's wrong? You sound like you've seen a ghost!" Eijiro's brow furrowed with concern.
"He's... he's back, Kiri," Denki stammered, his voice cracking. "He's yelling... everything's... it's a mess."
Eijiro's heart clenched. He knew what Denki was talking about. He knew the 'he' that haunted Denki's life. Denki's father, a man whose anger and volatility had cast a long shadow over his friend's life. He remembered the hushed, tearful phone calls Denki would make back in middle school, the times he'd show up with bruises he couldn't explain.
"Denki, where are you?" Eijiro asked, his voice tight with worry.
"I… I don't know… I'm leaving. I can't... I can't stay here," Denki choked out. In the background, Eijiro could clearly hear raised voices, a man's booming and angry, and a woman's, pleading and distressed. A crash followed.
"Okay, okay, listen to me," Eijiro said, forcing calm into his voice. "Just… just get out of there. Come here, Denki. Come to my house. You know the way. We'll figure it out, okay? Just get here safe."
"I… I'm coming," Denki said, his voice barely audible over the escalating argument. "I'm on my way."
The line went dead.
Eijiro stared at the phone, his heart pounding in his chest. He quickly explained the situation to his mothers, who immediately offered their support and understanding. Lexi started making tea, and Eliza, ever the pragmatist, prepared a guest room.
A few hours later, a frantic rapping echoed on the front door. Eijiro flung it open to find Denki standing on the porch, his eyes wide and bloodshot, his body trembling. Without a word, Denki launched himself into Eijiro's arms, clinging to him like a lifeline.
"It's okay, Denki. You're safe now," Eijiro murmured, holding him tightly. He led Denki inside, his arm protectively around his shoulders.
The next few days were a delicate dance of reassurance and support. Denki was a nervous wreck, jumping at every sudden noise, his sleep plagued by nightmares. Eijiro stayed by his side, a constant presence, patient and understanding. He knew Denki's triggers, the subtle signs of a panic attack brewing; the shallow breaths, the fidgeting hands, the distant look in his eyes.
During one particularly bad episode, Denki was curled up on the couch, hyperventilating and shaking. Eijiro knelt beside him, taking his hand.
"Hey, Denki, look at me," he said softly. "Just breathe with me, okay? In… and out…" He demonstrated, taking slow, deliberate breaths, and Denki, after a moment, began to mimic him.
"That's it," Eijiro encouraged. "You're doing great. Just focus on your breathing. You're safe, Denki. You're here with me."
Slowly, gradually, Denki's breathing evened out, and the tremors subsided. He leaned heavily against Eijiro, exhaustion etched on his face.
"Thanks, Kiri," he mumbled, his voice hoarse. "You always know what to do."
Eijiro just squeezed his hand. He didn't know what to say. He just wanted to make the pain go away.
They spent hours talking, or sometimes just sitting in comfortable silence. Eijiro listened patiently as Denki recounted the events leading up to his escape, the familiar cycle of accusations, insults, and threats that had become the soundtrack of his childhood. He didn't offer solutions or platitudes, just a listening ear and a steady presence.
As the days passed, Eijiro noticed a shift within himself. He'd always cared about Denki, valued their friendship, but now, something felt different. He found himself lingering on Denki's smile, the way his eyes sparkled when he talked about something he was passionate about. He noticed the softness of his hair, the vulnerability in his expression when he thought no one was looking. He felt a fierce protectiveness towards Denki, a desire to shield him from all the pain in the world.
He was falling for Denki.
The realization both thrilled and terrified him. He cherished their friendship, the easy camaraderie they shared, the unspoken understanding that bound them together. He didn't want to risk ruining that with romantic feelings that might not be reciprocated.
What if Denki didn't feel the same way? What if his advances made Denki uncomfortable, driving him away? What if he lost his best friend?
The thought was unbearable.
One evening, they were sitting on the porch, watching the sunset. The air was warm and still, filled with the chirping of crickets. Denki was unusually quiet, his gaze fixed on the horizon.
"Hey, Denki," Eijiro said softly. "Is everything okay?"
Denki sighed. "I don't know, Kiri. I just… I feel like I'm always running. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop."
Eijiro reached out and took Denki's hand, his heart pounding in his chest. "You don't have to run anymore, Denki. You're safe here. You can stay here as long as you need to."
Denki turned to him, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and something else… something that made Eijiro's breath catch in his throat.
"Thanks, Kiri," Denki whispered. "You're the best friend a guy could ask for."
Friend. The word hung in the air, a stark reminder of the boundaries Eijiro was afraid to cross.
He swallowed his disappointment and squeezed Denki's hand. "Anytime, man. Always."
He knew he couldn't tell Denki how he felt. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He couldn't risk losing him. He would just have to be content with being his friend, his confidant, his protector. He would just have to bury the feelings that were blooming within him, no matter how much it hurt.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the yard, Eijiro knew one thing for sure: he would do anything for Denki. Even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness. He would be there for him, always, a steady rock in a turbulent sea. He would be his friend, his anchor, his safe haven. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.