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“You know Shinsou, I was thinking, you should stay over at my house for winter break.”
Kaminari says it nonchalantly as he’s toeing off his wet boots in Shinsou’s room. His hair is touched with wet frost at the tips, and the scarf he borrowed from Shinsou earlier in the week is hanging off his neck in a loose rumpled loop.
When Shinsou doesn’t react, Denki keeps talking, “My mom wouldn’t mind, and you mentioned earlier you didn’t really have much to do over break, right?”
“I was planning on staying in the dorms, actually. To get some training in.” Shinsou halfheartedly clarifies.
“Yeah, but if you come over you get a bonus sparring buddy.” Kaminari bargains with a grin, “It’ll be fun!”
“You barely know me.” Shinsou says.
“All the more reason to invite you over and get to know you.” Denki shrugs, like it’s simple.
He wants to say that’s stupid, he wants to say that no one would ever want Shinsou to stay over at their house without a hidden ulterior motive, he wants to say that his own family hardly ever wants him over anymore. He wants to call Kaminari an idiot and tell him he’d rather spend winter alone like he always does. He should be strong enough to live on his own by now, this stupid offer shouldn’t be as tempting as it is, he doesn’t need a sparring partner, he doesn’t need to spend time in someone else's home, taking up space where he isn’t wanted or trusted. As good of friends as they’d become, he needs to train, he needs to focus.
“Fine.” he says instead.
___
They take the train. It’s an express route, equal parts fast and packed with passengers. It leaves Shinsou with little room for himself, and it means Kaminari’s pressed up against his chest for the entirety of the ride. He has to tip his head up to talk to Shinsou, but he doesn’t seem dettered.
A part of Shinsou wishes he had more to say. He wishes he could contribute more than this - whatever this stilted exchange is.
For the remainder of the ride, whenever Denki laughs, Shinsou feels it echo in his chest.
When they finally ease to a full stop, they skid past the sliding doors quickly enough for Denki to gain momentum. On impulse, he drags Shinsou by his sleeve through another dense crowd and into a small, french-themed restaurant. The shop is saturated with artificial lighting on the outside, tucked precariously between two butcher shops. An odd place for an equally odd and sad-looking excuse for a hidden cafe, but Kaminari’s never let appearances deter him. Shinsou would know.
The sun is just barely peeking through the horizon, coloring the traditional decor within a pinkish hue. There are lanterns hanging above the booth Kaminari picks out for the two of them.
“Let me guess,” Denki sits closer to Shinsou than necessary, but the warmth coming off him is soft and soothing, so Shinsou says nothing, “You’re the kind of person with a secret sweet tooth, right? Am I right?”
Shinsou averts his eyes and says nothing.
“Oh my God, I’m totally right!” Kaminari looks genuinely astonished, “I’m treating you! Let me treat you!”
Shinsou begins to protest, but Kaminari’s already face-deep into the menu, and anything he tries to say gets waved off.
“I got it!” Kaminari says with a snap of his fingers, “Wait here!”
The way Denki says it nearly implies Shinsou has a choice.
When Kaminari jogs back to the booth some ten minutes later, he has a box filled to the brim with toasted clumps of fresh glazed delicacies that Aoyama would probably know the name of. Each bite is light and sweet on Shinsou’s tongue, and while he tries to be polite and restrict himself to just a few, Kaminari kind of pegged him hard on this one. Before he knows it, half of the box is gone and Kaminari’s watching him eat with a ditzy satisfied grin on his face.
When Shinsou realises his mistake, he looks down at the sweets as if they’ve personally offended him.
“You know, I can’t really tell if you’re upset or not. You’re doing that thing with your face where you’re frowning but your eyes are too tired to follow through.”
Shinsou glares but it’s lackluster, which makes him all the more spiteful.
“See? I can kind of tell you’re going for malice right now, but the only part of your face really showing it are your eyebrows.”
Shinsou’s actually a little concerned at the effort it takes him to consciously narrow his eyes.
“Better!” Kaminari chirps, and when the rest of their dishes are deposited on the table, he offers Shinsou a fry to compensate for the intended insult. Shinsou plucks it and pops it into his mouth with all the unadulterated spite he can muster, then stops chewing out of additional spite because the fry tastes good.
When they’ve finished eating, they start heading downtown, back on track to Kaminari’s place.
“Thank you.” Shinsou says it tonelessly, but hopes it’s enough to convey the weight of his appreciation.
___
When they reach Denki’s apartment complex, a kindly woman meets them at the door. Presumming she’s Kaminari’s mother, Shinsou greets her in kind, bowing as low as he can and hoping he doesn’t look as sluggish as he feels.
Kaminari Akarui, as she introduces herself, is a short woman, with chopped layered hair going in all directions. Her roots are black, but pinken into a near whimsical cherry blonde at the ends. Her eyes are sharp, golden and cat-like in their complexion, and when she smiles at him she looks unfathomably young.
“Spitting image, right?” Denki says with an arm around her, and Shinsou can only nod with feeling as he’s pulled further in.
The Kaminari residence is warm in so many ways. There are candles on every mantle, and family photos on every other surface. Kaminari has an older brother, and a grandmother he never talks about.
In addition to the ornaments, there are lights hung in unreasonably low places throughout the house, and both Kaminari’s look to him pleadingly when they notice it’s caught his eye.
That’s how Shinsou winds up cross legged on the carpeted floor untangling a year’s worth of haphazardly stored christmas lights and dutifully hanging them where the Kaminari’s can’t reach. In retrospect, with the way these tangles are looking, Shinsou’s doing this more for the sake of the lights than his host. Shinsou thinks it’s best that they never fall into the destructive hands of a Kaminari ever again. But he doesn’t voice that. Instead, he settles for watching Denki descend the stairs. He’s changed into a sweater that all but swallows him, and he’s holding up two controllers. He gets to work setting them up.
When all is said and done, Kaminari pulls an american game Shinsou’s never heard of from a pile of miscellaneous cd cases, and they play against each other for two hours. In it, Shinsou gives his round little character a scarf and a staff and feels immensely satisfied with himself.
“Really? That’s what you’re going for?” Kaminari asks.
Shinsou smiles with his teeth.
“Dude! At least make your car cool!”
Shinsou does not make his car cool. He makes it small and gives it a little bicycle horn, and because the game lets him, he replaces his wheels with bottle caps.
It makes it that much more satisfying when he wins with his shitty little car. Kaminari’s big monster truck of a kart spins out of control because of something Shinsou tosses at it.
After two consecutive hours of betrayal, Kaminari grumbles, “Proud of yourself?”
Shinsou nods affirmatively before he can help it.
Despite himself, Denki snorts good heartedly, “Man, how are you so automatically good at this stuff?”
“The trick is all in the thumb joint.”
At this, Denki perks up a little, “Wait, dude, seriously?”
Shinsou nods, “Look.” he holds his hand up, palm facing Kaminari, “See my hand?”
Denki gets as close as he can, nodding.
“Good.” without warning, he slaps Denki’s forehead, who yelps and stumbles.
“My feelings, Shinsou!” Kaminari whines when he regains what little composure he had in the first place.
When Hitoshi turns his head into the crook of his elbow, his shoulders start to shake, and where at first Kaminari thinks Shinsou’s coughing, he soon begins to hear the steady little huff of cackles half-formed.
“I can’t believe you fell for that?” Shinsou wheezes incredulously, arm over his face.
“I can’t believe you even tried that! That’s so old!”
“I didn’t think it would work-” Shinsou actually rolls onto his side, still trembling with laughter.
“The fucking audacity!” Denki feigns kicking at him until he rolls onto his back, where he sits on him to make him suffer in full. It turns out Denki weighs half of what Shinsou does, and all it does to deter him and his sneaky purple-haired ways is make him laugh louder.
Staring down at Shinsou from this new angle, Kaminari finds a sudden, near unnaturally endearing quality staring back at him.
He realises with a start that he would gladly take cheesy hits to the forehead if it meant Shinsou’s stoic resolve would soften more often.