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1.
“You’re playing it wrong.”
Kaminari sighs and leans his head back onto the wall with a loud thunk. “Teach me how, then!” he says, shifting around on the bed, sheets rustling and their knees knocking, skin pressing against skin. “I don’t get the strumming pattern.”
Jirou sighs in a very put-upon manner, but she takes the guitar from him anyway. “Here,” she says, fingers moving to the chords without much thought. Easy as breathing. “If you do it like this”—her fingers dance along the chords, swift and sure—“it sounds way better and less choppy, right?”
Kaminari blinks, running his hands through his hair and tugging on the golden strands. He’s biting his lips raw red and her heart thuds in her chest like fingers stumbling over strings. It’s off-key and makes her uneasy.
“Uh,” he says, and his throat bobs as he swallows.
Jirou sighs again, but her eyes are gentler this time, handing the guitar back to him. “Want me to sing while you play?” she offers, lips quirking at the corners. “It will help you concentrate better, at least.”
He stares at her, disbelief between the furrow of his brows. “You’re kidding me,” he says with a breathy laugh, collapsing onto her bed and sending their ankles knocking. Jirou stares at him in confusion. He pops one eye open. “Your voice is really nice, how do you expect me to focus?”
She flushes red all the way to her ears, slapping his leg. “Figure out on your own!” she says, voice strangled as she leans back with a huff. “I’ll sing slow,” she says, quieter. “It’s fine if you fuck up. I’ll fix it.”
Kaminari grins up at her and she stares stubbornly ahead. He sighs playfully and starts to strum.
2.
“And then he fell into a trash can!” Kaminari is saying, grinning around his burger as Jirou collapses into hysterics across from him. “Man, you should see Kirishima’s flirting attempts, they’re hilarious.”
Jirou rests her cheek on her palm, eyes perking up at the corners. “Guess romance isn’t his forte, huh?”
He steals one of her fries, pointing it at her like a sword. “That pun was really clef-er,” he says, winking as he pops it into his mouth, trying not to chuckle.
“Steal more of my food and you’ll be in treble,” she says, swinging her legs around, grinning. Kaminari breaks into a fit of laughter, doubling over and clutching at his stomach. Jirou smiles and listens, watching the way his eyes curve and how his right cheek dimples. They’re sitting on one of the high tables, the chair cushions cracked but comfortable. The hanging lights dangle dangerously low and send spots of color spinning around the room.
She snatches one of his onion rings while he’s distracted, nibbling on the edges. “Nobody appreciates a good pun these days.”
“Try hanging out with Bakugou,” Kaminari says, pouting. “He never appreciates my jokes.”
“Aw, baby,” Jirou coos, teasing. He sticks his tongue out at her and knocks their ankles together under the table, insinuating a whole fight involving jostling legs and giggles. Her heart snaps like fizzy cola. “Anyway, around Bakugou, jokes tend to fall flat. One time I made an exploding pun and I swear I saw his veins popping.”
Kaminari chuckles, stealing another handful of fries, and she bats her away. “Ah, yes,” he carries on, dodging her hands. “I haven’t exchanged puns or eaten out with anyone since we moved into the dorms.”
“What can I say?” Jirou smirks. “I’m good company.”
Kaminari smiles again, and she feels it. There’s something about Kaminari that screams summer, makes you feel the sticky-sweet heat of it beneath your shirt. When he announced that he was going out to grab a bite, she decided to tag along for a reason other than the promise of junk food.
“I guess you’re tolerable, too,” she adds begrudgingly, kicking him under the table.
“Big compliment, coming from you,” he teases.
She rolls her eyes and picks up a tissue, wiping her oil-slick fingers. She takes another wad and reaches over. “C’mere,” she murmurs, swallowing. “You have a mustard stain by the corner of your lips and it’s bothering me.”
Kaminari blinks dumbly and leans over. His eyes are big and bright under the lights. Jirou grits her teeth and doesn’t stare at his mouth as she swipes hastily along the side, the knuckle of her thumb brushing at his lips as she does so. His mouth is sticky with chapstick. She crumples the tissue into a ball.
Kaminari, unbothered, prattles away. “Thanks,” he says distractedly, before talking about whatever comes to mind as he usually does. “So anyway, you know there’s a food thief in the dorms?” he says, brandishing a french fry at her. “And you know how the fucker stole my candy bars, right?”
Jirou hums, watching his gesture wildly with his hands, nearly knocking the lights off the ceiling. Her cheek is warm against her palm.
“—went down last night to do some investigation, and guess what?”
Kaminari stares at her, eyes so expectant and wide that she can vividly imagine him sparkling.
She tilts her head. “What?”
“Well,” he says, dropping his voice into a whisper, glancing around theatrically, “I heard choking noises and went over to investigate. I didn’t catch the perpetrator but I did see Bakugou’s curry on the table. You know the one, right? Spicy as hell. They got their ass handed to them.”
She laughs into her palm, shoulders shaking. “I’m glad. I got my dark chocolate stolen and I want revenge.”
Kaminari smiles crookedly, before hopping off his chair. “Ah, be right back, gotta go to the bathroom. Give me a minuet!”
Jirou grins and waves him off, then turns over to look out the window. She sees a crescent moon hanging in the night sky, and all it does is remind her of Kaminari’s smile.
3.
“Thanks for coming, Jirou,” Kaminari says as she enters the common room with a blanket thrown over her shoulders. He’s on the floor trying to figure out the television, cds scattered around him. “Nobody else wanted to join me.”
Jirou knocks him gently on the head. “Nobody likes your shitty sci-fi movies, Pikachu. I’m here for the pizza.”
“Ouch,” he says, too preoccupied with picking out a film to be dramatic. “Hey, if you hate my movie taste so much, then pick your own.”
Jirou flushes. “I’m not fond of scary stuff,” she says through her teeth, trying not to be embarrassed.
“Aw, cute,” Kaminari teases. She sticks her tongue out at him. “Hm, okay, how about a rom-com, instead?”
“What,” she says.
“It’s a compromise!” Kaminari insists, throwing his hands in the air
And that’s how they wind up on the couch, sharing a blanket. Kaminari is leaning on one end of the couch, legs on her lap (she tried to push them off several times now, it’s just not working), sleepily making witty comments about the film. The girl in the movie is walking through the rain now, monologuing loudly about love being as fleeting as raindrops or some shit. Her love interest comes strolling down the street and Kaminari hollers loudly.
“A hundred yen says they make out in the rain,” he says.
“Two hundred yen says they share an umbrella.”
Kaminari tilts his head, the light of the television screen softening his face around the edges. “You a romantic at heart?” he says, almost teasing but not quite. His smile is lopsided but there’s something sincere about him, glowing around the edges.
Jirou huffs and turns away, cheeks heating. “Fuck no.”
Kaminari hums, nibbling on his pizza, and they lapse back into silence. Jirou eyes the table. “You want the last pizza slice?”
“Called it! I knew you were a romantic!”
Jirou stares at him. “What.”
“Dude,” he says, already reaching for the pizza. “You have to really love someone to let them have the last pizza slice. That’s romance right there. What the hell.”
Jirou’s shoulders tremble, then she bursts into laughter. “Y-You got me there,” she manages, wheezing. “I take it back. I want it.”
“Uh-uh. No can do. You gave it to me as an act of love, no take backs.”
Jirou snorts. “Can I at least have the crust?”
Kaminari squints at her. “I guess,” he says dramatically, tearing off piece, “we can share. I get the bigger half, though.”
She chuckles again and takes her half. The movie plays on despite being ignored. She had her doubts earlier, but romcoms are usually kinda cute—not that she’d ever tell Kaminari, damn him. She tears off a piece of the crust and smiles.
“The soundtrack is nice, at least,” she admits grudgingly.
Kaminari beams.
4.
“I can’t believe you were stupid enough not to bring an umbrella,” Jirou says, popping hers closed after they shared. She shakes the rainwater off and drops into the basket with the rest.
Kaminari smiles sheepishly, running his fingers through his slightly damp hair. The water slides of his fringe in droplets. “Sorry,” he says. “I was too excited, I forgot to check the forecast. You’ve been talking about this music store for a while now, I’m psyched.”
Jirou rolls her eyes, but it lacks any spite, more fondly amused than anything, if the quirk in her lips have anything to say. The store is small but lively, walls painted violet. Behind the windows, cds and guitars are displayed in gleaming rows. Jirou’s eyes wander to the flashing open sign and pushes the door open, Kaminari strolling in after her.
“The music is this way,” she says, jerking a thumb to the left. “The instruments are on the other side.”
“Woah,” Kaminari gasps, eyes going starry at the sight of all the music. “This is like, every single music junkie’s dream come true.”
Jirou snorts. “Our kinda heaven, then, huh?”
Kaminari turns to look at her. “Wanna try something fun?”
She raises her eyebrows. “What are you proposing?”
He grins. “We pick out cds for each other!”
She watches him go, disappearing amongst the glittering cases and shelves. She thinks back to his smile, all charm and sparkle. A little crooked, the trace of a dimple on his left cheek, a twinkle in his eye. Far too genuine, that boy. She can’t help but feel endeared in spite of everything.
Picking out a random track to listen to, she closes her eyes and starts to listen.
“I love you but I don’t know how to say. I ’ll stick around, anyway.”
She jolts, plugging her jacks out with a start, glancing at the cover. The title sears itself into memory. Lovestruck fools. She pinches the bridge of her nose between her fingers, and it all starts to make sense. This feeling, this off-key stutter of her heart’s rhythm whenever she so much as thinks of Kaminari.
“Well, fuck,” Jirou mutters, feeling like she’s been struck by lightning.
Of course, Kaminari chooses to pass by just then, throwing her a wink and some finger guns. She manages a—fond? what the hell—eyeroll, before turning back and paying attention to her breathing. Her father always told her that the day love songs start to make sense is the day you realize you have feelings for someone. Well fuck.
Jirou stomps the fluttering down and keeps searching. She has time to think about that later. For now, it’s just a mission of trying to find the most ridiculous music to give to Kaminari. The sillier, the better.
/
They tumble out of the shop in hysterics, all clutching stomachs and wiping eyes. Kaminari swings his bag of purchases, stomach aching from all the laughing, and Jirou shakes her head, still giggling from all the weird song titles they’ve seen as she picks out her umbrella.
“My dad should be here soon,” she says as they walk down the steps. They’ve barely waited a minute when a car screeches to a halt in front of them, splashing rainwater and honking loudly. Jirou barely manages to avoid getting her converse wet. She sighs. “C’mon, Sparky, get in.”
She takes the front seat, Kaminari awkwardly settling down in the back. Her dad likes him a lot, and they get along swell, but driving in a car with your friend’s father is always bound to be a little awkward.
It's a quiet ride, the rain pelting the hood and trickling down the windows. Jirou looks back at Kaminari, who offers her a little grin. She quirks a smile of her own as he starts to make small talk with her dad, giving him directions towards his apartment complex.
She gazes out the window, phone in hand, and decides that if she’s gonna overthink her crush (or whatever it’s called) may as well do it now. Her throat is jammed with all the words left unsaid. I like you. Shit, was this a date? Shit, do you like me back? What are feelings?
She looks back again, just a quick glance.
And to her endless surprise, he’s looking right back.
Shit, she thinks, then makes a hasty cover for staring, “I heard that Ultra is going to have a concert around here, soon.”
Kaminari lights up. “Yeah! Man, I’m already super excited for it, damn. I’ve been saving up for a ticket, and—oh, ah, I live around here, yeah.” He hesitates, then pushes the door open as the car comes to a stop. “Thank you very much for the ride, sir.”
Her father waves it off. “It’s cool, kid. You’re welcome.”
Jirou leans over to wave. “See ’ya, Sparky.”
He playfully sticks his tongue out at the nickname—although Jirou knows for a fact that he doesn’t mind it. “Bye, Earphone. And thanks again, sir!”
Jirou licks her lips, so many thoughts swarming in her head. The door slams shut, and they keep driving, all the words left unsaid stuck in her throat like a song that she can’t piece together.
A song.
Piece together.
She nods to herself at her idea, then grabs her phone.
“Whatcha doin’, kiddo?” her dad asks as they continue to drive along the rain-slick streets, her typing filling the silence as she hums along with the radio. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”
Jirou grins. “Nothing,” she says. “Keep driving, old man.”
5.
“It really is packed in here, huh?” Kaminari whistles as they crowd among many other fans, all chatter and an endless swarm of bodies. She grimaces and inches closer to him. He leans in to say into her ear, a bit loud so she can hear, “Alright?”
She pulls a face. “I’m not a fan of being pressed up against strangers.”
His face lets her know that he probably didn’t hear half the sentence, but his grin also tells her that he understood from the look on her face, anyway. And then, a sudden hush as the lights come on, spiraling around the hall and then back to the stage in every color.
Her heart pounds in her ears, and she fumbles for her phone.
Then comes the screaming.
Kaminari starts yelling, too, and so does she. In excitement, he grabs at the sleeve of her jacket and points towards the stage. He looks like a child. A very excited child. She’s kind of a very excited child too, and her heart swells full to bursting as the members enter the stage.
The drumsticks tap along with her heart.
Hastily, she slides her phone open and presses video just in time for the first song to play. Throughout the entire concert they keep exchanging wide-eyed, excited glances. Kaminari bounces his feet along to the rhythm, singing at the top of his lungs. That’s going to wind up on the video later, but she care. She sings along, too, every lyric, every flashing light searing itself into memory.
When the confetti explodes from every corner—a quirk, perhaps—and the glittering pieces of paper stream out, she can’t help but laugh as they land on her. She turns to see streamers and confetti tangled in Kaminari’s hair, a crooked smile on his face as he watches her giggle.
A stray light hits him, for a moment, a single flash of gold, and he melds into that brief moment of spotlight with hear as his only crowd, all ease.
“I look fantastic, I bet,” he says. He’s all but yelling to be heard over the cheers, but for a second, it’s almost like it’s quiet and they’re the only people in the room. He winks, peace sign and silly smile and all.
Jirou thinks about kissing him.
+1
They walk to the bus stop after the concert, side by side. “Man, that was so great, we should go to another concert, sometime!” he says, stretching his arms over his head and resting them behind his neck. “The bit with all the effects going off was so cool, like bam! smash! ”
“We should,” Jirou says. “Go to another concert, I mean.” A faint smile graces her lips. “It was kinda fun. I guess you were okay, too,” she adds, teasing, nudging him with her elbow.
Kaminari laughs, and then the bus arrives and they board, arms bumping. The weight of her bag feels heavier than ever as they rush to snag seats, racing each other for the one by the window.
And then it’s still.
Jirou swallows, hesitating, then reaches for something in her bag. “There’s something I want to give you,” she says, just as Kaminari holds out an ipod towards her. She pulls out a cd she put together just in time, and they stare at each other, then the items in their hands.
They both burst into laughter, lost amongst the chatter in the bus but loud to their own ears.
“I-I wanted to make something for you,” Kaminari says, flushing down to his neck. He looks shy, almost, and fuck that’s cute. She looks down at the little device, at the lightning and music stickers on the plastic. To Jirou, the title of the playlist reads. Her cheeks heat.
She bites her lip, heartbeating loud in her ears. For Kaminari “Pikachu” Denki, it reads. He laughs at that, almost disbelievingly so
“I’m not good with words,” she says. “But I know music, and—shit, I dunno how to say this—I have a lot of, uh, feelings towards you that I can’t put in words. So this is it.” She licks her lips, holding it out. “All the things I want to say.”
Kaminari smiles, nervous but ever-bright, then places the cd in her hands. “I heard some music at the store the other day that reminded me of you. I mean, everyone knows music can be romantic, right? Even more than sharing the last pizza slice.” He laughs nervously. “So, uh, consider it a confession. Or something.”
“Or something,” she echoes.
He grins, sheepish. “A confession, then.”
They sit in silence for a while until she says, “Well, are you gonna gimme your earphones or not?”
Kaminari stares. “But, uh... you can use your jacks, right?”
“How are we going to share if I do?”
His eyes widen, and he pulls out his earphones with shaky hands, unwinding the knots with those fumbling fingers. They do wind up sharing, hands brushing. Jirou sneaks a glance at him and his red cheeks, then huffs and turns towards the window. “You know, we’ve kind of been going on dates all this time without realizing it.”
Kaminari blinks, then groans. “Damn, you’re right,” he says. “All that missed time...”
Jirou snorts. “What do you say about a proper one?”
He winks. “I’ll have to listen to your cd first.”
“I love you but I don’t know how to say. II’ll stick around, anyway.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. She turns back to the window, watching the sights roll past, then after a while, dares to cast him another glance.
“And when the time comes. My heart will learn the way...”
And he’s there, staring right back.
“To say ‘I love you’.”
(The cd pokes out of his bag, the plastic case glistening, covered in lightning bolt stickers and doodles of music notes. The ipod rests between them, playing out all the words they can’t say, the line of the earphones connecting them and pulling them close.)