You’ve seen Tomura in his highs and lows, you’ve witnessed him spliced and bleed, you’ve seen him stand tall and act aloof. You’ve witnessed him scratching at his skin as if he were covered in acid that boiled his skin, until it bled and stained his fingertips an awful color, where you bandaged him and held him, keeping your own tears in check because this was about him- you had to stay strong for him while he broke and rebuilt himself in your arms. You’ve seen throw objects- disintegrating before they even had the chance to reach halfway across the room. You’ve seen the side where he holds onto you like a scared child, clinging desperately to your back with a finger curled up even after he’s regained control of his quirk- too scared that his emotions would win over and you’d disappear from him- as he hides in your chest, your shoulder, or on the curve of your neck. You hear him sniffle and all you can offer is to hold him tight and tell him you’ll stay here, that you have him right now. He rises and looks away from you, eyes never meeting yours but the tears still linger on your skin and clothes and they fade slowly. You’ve seen him after a win, a wide grin hidden by a hand and he’s enthusiastic, bouncing on his legs like a child going to a theme park. He holds you and presses kisses all over your face in private, and you can feel his grin with every kiss. He holds you close at night and he talks about his plans, he talks about the world and in between the space of sleep and consciousness, he looks at you with soft eyes and a smile to match and when he whispers words of adoration to you, he lets his mask slip and he loves you.
You can deal with him when he has a good day. You can hold him in your arms and tell him you love him back, you can brush the hair out of his face and kiss at every scar. His bad days are harder. You never know quite what to say to him. You can’t promise him that everything will be okay because that requires you knowing that everything will work out and you can’t lie to him. So you hold him and when he sobs, and he digs the heels of palms into your back, when he has to bite your shoulder to muffle his cries, you hold back your tears and you bury yourself into him, you try to wish away his pain, to let you take half of it, even a fraction. The man who sneers at society wants to be held and coddled, wants reassurance and love just like everyone else and you can only give him reassurance that you’re still there- that you aren’t going anywhere until death do you part. His brushes his lips over your marks, mumbling an apology that can hardly be heard sometimes, but when he kisses the blooming bruises, you run your lips over his knuckles and his shoulders droop with relief. You forgive him and you always will.
Everyone has different coping mechanisms and even if it isn’t healthy, you don’t want to push him away. You don’t want to make the fear and anxiety in his heart swallow him whole. He’s always been emotional, no matter how many times he tries to hide it, he’ll always show who he is. He wears his heart on his sleeve, he guards it but with the slightest scuff, he’s cracking and curling tighter inwards.
You enter the hideout, a skip in your steps until Twice remarks loudly when you enter that Shigaraki is “losing it and if we’re lucky, he’ll destroy another building”. You look at the others who simply turn away, hands extended outward daring you to go see for yourself. Your heart drops and you anxiety spikes and courses through your veins. You run to him rapidly, your steps slamming into the floor beneath you, cursing in your mind that you should start doing yoga again the minute your calves begin to burn and your heart races. He can’t spiral. Not now. Not when everything is falling into place. But then you enter the room and he’s spinning.
Ash is on the floor, half broken items that start or end in ash, broken before they had a chance to fully decay. He looks at you and you your heart stops, your survival instincts are telling you to run away. His glare is enough to stop a bataillon from attacking, it’s enough for you to want to cower. But then he raps out your name and he sounds so broken. His eyes are dark and rimmed red, his mouth pulled into a pained frown and he stumbles towards you. Tears stream down and on his arm, he has bite marks, a quick glance to the pillow and you see it’s wet with saliva. His hair is disheveled and sticks up at all sides. He looks like something out of a horror movie with the environment makes him appear all that much more dangerous. He looks vulnerable and his hand twitches at his side, his eyes glossy and trembling as he stands. You shut the door and lock it with a click and you turn to him and you open your arms.
You hold him. He buries himself into the soft spot between your neck and shoulder and you hush him, rubbing circles on his back while he tries to muffle his whimpers by pressing deeper into you. His words slur and you listen, his arms are limp at his side and he’s hunched over. He shakes in your arms and his cries are quiet and broken gasps, little high pitched noises of agony escaping from him.
“Tomura,” you whisper gently, “you can hold me, love. I trust you.” You squeeze your arms tighter around him and he lets out a choked gasp and his hands are pressing into your back, sliding down to your waist, moving and tickling at your sides and then they find their place, nestled underneath your shirt on the bottom on your back.
You rock him gently, planting your hands firmly on his side and pressing your nose into his hair. You hope he doesn't feel how your heart races. It’s a painful thing to see him like this. Someone so big and strong to just crumble away when everything piles on. You think it's a cruel joke that he’s been allowed to suffer for so long.
You take baby steps forward, cooing at him when he whines and holds you tighter. You just need to make it to the bed and it’ll be okay. You two will be okay. It’s a promise.
It’s a short trek that makes it feel as if you’ve traveled a thousand miles and it makes your already sore muscles ache and scream a bit more. You hold him up, his body slouched and legs that drag across the floor and offer no more than a shuffle. The back of his legs hit the bed and he sits. He lowers his head and his hair cascades down and hides him from the world. He shakes and his cries have died into piteous whimpers. His hands slip from your back and rest in front of him.
You crouch and hold his wrists, sliding your fingers down the back of his hand and rests over his fingers. “Tomura,” you lower your voice when he flinches, “I need you to look at me, okay? Just a glance.” He curls deeper into himself and your lips are tugged into a frown. “Can I hold you again?” He nods.
You sit next to him, and he turns to bury himself in your shoulder. He whines and nestles himself further into your touch when your hands run down his hair. You’re careful to avoid his neck, you didn’t see if he had done anything but you wouldn’t put it past him to slip into his old habits.
“Are you hurt?” You ask, twirling a strand of his hair around your finger.
He moves closer to you and you put your legs over his. “No. Just a few scratches but they aren’t bad.” He breaths warm air onto your skin. “I promise,” he adds.
“Do you want to talk about it?” You shush him when his muscles tense. “We don’t have to. It’s okay.”
“Can you just talk to me?”
“Praise or nonsense?”
“Just affirmation," he whispers, "please,” his voice cracks with the added word and you kiss the crown of his head.
"You're good Tomura. You're safe. I love you. Every part of you. Scars and all." You hold him tighter and he shakes his head. You can talk nonsense to him, tell him your thoughts and talk about your favorite movie until he falls asleep, but words of affirmation is where you get tongue tied. "Tomura," you mumble against the top of his hair, "I love you. I'm here right now, you're in my arms and it's going to work out." He moves closer to you and the grip around you loosens. "Whatever happened, it doesn't matter. We can work it out. You aren't alone anymore. You don't have to do anything alone. Just, for today, let me take care of things, okay?" He lets out a shaky breath and you can feel your skin dampen with burning tears. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but you have to eventually, okay? But for right now, you just stay here and calm down?" You move away from his grasp and he looks up at you with a tired expression. "And then later we can take a shower."
He shifts out your grasp and curls into a pillow, letting his hair fall to the side and it sticks to his skin. His breathing is deep, and he stiffens when you place a hand on his back.
Your fingers trail down his spine and move under his shirt, rubbing the skin underneath and tracing formless shapes onto him.
"I don't know how to explain it," he croaks, voice hoarse and in a low whisper.
"I'll wait as long as I need to." You soothe over his hair and move it away from his face.
"Can you do me a favor?" His hands curl into loose fists and he lets out a shaky breath.
"Of course, my love." Your hand slides out of his shirt and rests above. "What is it?"
"Can you wash my hair?" A red hue spreads across his face and he shuts his eyes tight as if awaiting for ridicule.
His face softens and he relaxes into the bed when you press a kiss against his cheek, letting your lips linger on his tear stained face. “Of course. Whatever you want.” You rise from the bed and his hand reaches out towards you, fingers slipping into your palm and sliding off of your fingertips. “Let me go get you water.”
“No, just please,” he rolls over and faces you, “I just… for a bit, okay?” His tongue peeks out and wets his lips. His hand lays limp on the bed and his fingers tap against the bed.
You sigh with a gentle smile curving in your lips. “Of course,” you slowly crawl onto the bed and rest on your side, your arms opening and letting out a soft chuckle when Tomura nuzzles into your chest.
His breathing is gentle and his arms rest lightly on your hips, fingers curling around your waistband and curving upwards onto your skin and making goosebumps rise on your skin. You hold him in your arms and run your hands down his hair, letting the strands fall softly on his back and slide down onto the comforter. His leg comes in between yours and he sighs when you press your weight on him.
“We should get a weighted blanket,” you murmur into him.
“I’ll add it to the shopping list,” he whispers, his voice heavy and words slurring together.
“Get some rest Tomura,” you hold him tight in your arms and bring him closer to you, “I’ll be here.”