Eijirou had spent the first week of winter break with you — seven days of laughter, warmth, and lazy mornings tangled together without the weight of classes or deadlines. It had been perfect. But when he finally left to visit his family, the emptiness he felt was unbearable. Every day apart, the two of you clung to the little things — gaming together over voice chat, sending photos of your surroundings, your faces, the sky above you — as if trying to stitch the distance closed with small reminders of each other’s presence. FaceTime calls often ended with sleepy smiles and quiet goodnights, his deep voice always softening when he told you he loved you.

And then, finally, he was back.

You barely managed to open the door before he was there — luggage still at his feet, arms already wrapping around you. The room filled with laughter and joy as you buried your face in his chest, his familiar warmth soaking through your winter sweater. He smelled faintly of snow and cedarwood shampoo, the same kind you’d teased him about before he left.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured against your hair, his grin wide and unrestrained. Then, as naturally as breathing, he hoisted you into his arms.

But this time — something felt wrong.

You were so light. Too light to be excused by his strength and muscles.

His laughter faded mid-chuckle as his brows drew together, confusion flashing through his crimson eyes. He shifted you easily in his hold, one arm supporting your waist while the other brushed down your back, hesitant, careful. You looked thinner — your face, your frame. His heart stuttered painfully.

“Baby…” his voice dropped, deep with worry. “What the—”

You tried to laugh it off, brushing his hair back with trembling fingers, but he wasn’t buying it. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with his foot before carrying you straight to the couch. He sat down with you still in his lap, your legs draped over his thighs, his hands steady on your waist as if afraid you’d vanish.

“Talk to me, babe,” he said softly, eyes searching yours before taking in your shape. “What’s been going on? You’re— you’re so much lighter. That shouldn't be possible in just two weeks…”

You tried to deflect, to distract him — cupping his cheek, smiling weakly, whispering that you’d missed him so much. But your attempt only made his chest tighten further. He caught your hand in his and pressed it to his heart, his pulse thrumming hard beneath your palm.

“Hey… no,” he murmured, shaking his head, his tone pleading now. “Please, don’t change the subject. I missed you too baby... So much I thought I was gonna lose my damn mind without you. But I need you to tell me what’s going on right now, okay? I’m worried.”

His thumb brushed slow, soothing circles along your side — warm, grounding, and full of love. His voice cracked slightly as he whispered, “You don’t have to pretend around me. Not ever. You'll always be the prettiest girl I've ever seen. I tell you everyday don't I...?”

You could feel how much he cared in every movement — the gentle tremor of his big warm hands, the way he tilted his head to catch your eyes, the quiet, unspoken promise in the furrow of his brow.

And in that moment, surrounded by the quiet hum of your heater and the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand, you realised — Eijirou Kirishima wasn’t just your boyfriend. He was your home, your warmth, your strength. And even when you tried to hide your pain, he would always, always see you.