Chapter Text
POV: Third person
Denki pushed open the dorm door with a bit more force than intended, the quiet click of it shutting behind him the only sound in the room. His bookbag dropped to the floor with a loud thud, ignored as he shrugged off his blazer and yanked at his tie. Both articles of clothing landed somewhere near his bed, forgotten.
He began pacing—small, quick steps that circled the same part of the floor over and over.
"You’re at U.A.," he muttered under his breath, running a shaky hand through his hair. "Not middle school. They’re not like those kids… They’re your friends. You’re safe here."
His voice cracked slightly at the last word, the panic creeping up his throat no matter how hard he tried to bury it. He caught his reflection in the mirror—eyes wide, trembling hands, face pale.
"They don’t hate you. They’re not gonna laugh. They’ve seen you zonk out and didn’t make a big deal… right?"
But the memories were there—faint laughter from years ago, fingers pointing, cruel words whispered behind his back. The déjà vu of the classroom felt too real. The moment they all stared at him today—really looked at him—felt just like that day in middle school.
His breathing quickened, chest tight. He sat down. Then stood up again. Paced.
It took him hours to calm down enough to function. A hot shower helped, the water washing over him like a reset button, even if it didn’t scrub away the anxiety completely. Dressed in his hoodie and sweatpants, he curled up with a book in his hands, even if he hadn’t turned a page in fifteen minutes.
A knock jolted him back to reality.
“Yo, Denki!” Sero’s voice came from behind the door. “Dinner time, dude!”
Denki forced a grin he didn’t quite feel, letting it sit on his face as he stood.
“Coming!”
Downstairs, the warmth of the common area greeted him, along with the smell of something actually edible. Everyone was there. Talking. Laughing. No one mentioned what happened in class.
He slid into his usual spot between Kirishima and Jirou. Conversations continued like normal—Bakugou arguing with Mina about seasoning, Kaminari pretending to steal food off Sero’s plate. For a while, he relaxed. Almost forgot about the tension still coiled in his chest.
But after dinner, when the dishes had been cleaned and people started lounging on the couches, the quiet returned. Then came Mina’s voice.
“Hey, Denks,” she said gently, her big eyes focused on him. “Are you okay? Like, really okay?”
Denki blinked at her. “Yup!” he chirped quickly. “One hundred percent! Totally fine. Like, ultra-fine. Nothing to worry about!”
And just like that, the floodgate cracked.
“So, like,” Mineta started, his voice far too casual. “—can you, like, see the future or something?”
A whack echoed through the room as Tsuyu’s tongue smacked him across the head.
“Idiot,” she said flatly.
Denki chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nope, nothing that cool. Not a psychic or anything.” He hesitated, then added, “But… yeah. I’ve got epilepsy. That much is true.”
Denki’s fingers curled in his lap. The room had gone silent again. Everyone was looking at him.
He took a breath.
“I’ve always had epilepsy,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “It’s a side effect of my Quirk. Mostly absence seizures—like when I space out and go all ‘whey mode’—and sometimes full-on generalized ones. It’s been like that since I was a kid. Some days it’s fine. Some days it’s not.”
He swallowed. “I thought… I thought you guys knew.”
Jirou bit her lip, guilt flickering in her eyes. “I’m really sorry if I ever made jokes that… hit too close. I didn’t mean to.”
Denki’s smile trembled. He shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I just… I got scared. Thought maybe you were laughing at me, not with me. It happened in middle school. Kids didn’t get it. They thought I was weird, broken.” His voice cracked. “I just didn’t want that to happen again.”
The words hung in the air like a confession. Vulnerable. Raw.
“We’re not like those kids,” Tsuyu said quietly.
“We never will be,” Kirishima added firmly.
Iida cleared his throat, trying to lift the mood. “Well! In light of our strengthened bonds and newfound understanding, may I suggest a classic dorm activity—movie night?”
The group let out a collective cheer, laughter bubbling up like a warm blanket. Denki laughed with them, feeling the tension in his chest finally begin to ease.
~~~~~~
Denki was halfway to his room when he heard a voice behind him.
“Oi. Dunce Face.”
He turned to find Bakugou walking up behind him, hands shoved in his pockets.
“What’s up?” Denki asked, still caught in the surreal haze of the evening.
Bakugou grunted, eyes darting away. “Just… wanted to say somethin’.”
Denki tilted his head. “Did you just… willingly talk to me without yelling?”
Bakugou scowled. “Shut up. I’m trying to say—” He stopped, huffed, then forced the words out. “That one time, I made you short-circuit on purpose. Thought it’d break the tension. Lighten the mood. Didn’t think it’d… y’know. Be serious.”
Denki stared.
“You’re… apologizing?”
Bakugou growled. “Don’t make it weird.”
A slow smile spread across Denki’s face. “It’s cool, man. Really. Thanks for telling me.”
Bakugou gave a curt nod, then turned and walked off without another word.
~~~~~~~
The door clicked shut behind him. He went to the bathroom in a daze, brushed his teeth automatically. The night felt too big, too heavy and soft all at once.
Back in bed, he curled under the covers, wrapping them tight around his body. His mind still spun, but the weight on his heart had started to ease.
They didn’t hate him. They didn’t laugh. They didn’t leave.
Maybe… this time was different.
And for the first time in a long time, Denki fell asleep feeling a little less alone.