Chapter Text
Kaminari was too busy being holed up in his room, curled up in the space on his closet floor, to look at his phone. It sat buzzing on his desk across the room while Kaminari distracted himself with Pokémon. The events of the day cling to his thoughts and leave a bad taste in his mouth. His hands shake, trembling so hard he has difficulty selecting his moves. He's still in his school clothes, only his tie tossed onto the low table in the middle of the room. He had sat in the bed and tried huddling under the sheets but had still felt exposed. Nothing feels as secure as his closet floor.
Kaminari is hyperfocused on grinding his jolteon when someone knocks on his door. It must take them several tries, because by the time he hears them it's quick and insistent. He sniffles and scrubs at his face with his sleeve.
“Not right now! I'm,” quick, think non-suspicious thoughts, “studying! Please leave me alone!”
“We can hear the game music through the door, dumbass!”
“We're just worried about you, Kaminari!”
“You gonna open up or not man?”
He turns the music off. The knocking pauses, and Kaminari breathes a sigh of relief. His brain, still foggy and disoriented from being too focused on one thing, immediately wants to return to the game. So he misses the conversation that happens on the other side of his dormroom door. It's an argument between Shinsou and one of his hallmates, but not a very spirited one. It lasts just long enough for Kaminari to think he is free to continue his breakdown in the closet. No such luck.
The door opens and Kaminari freezes like a deer in the headlights. Maybe if he sits still enough they'll all forget he talked in the first place and leave.
Shinsuo stares at the empty desk, “Studying, huh?”
Kaminari snaps his DS shut in surprise. He knows that deadpan, sonorous voice. Knows it very well, in fact. He knows the way it cracks as Shinsuo comes apart under his hands, knows the way it tickles the shell of his ear. Knows he loves it best when its owner is drowsy and warm. Shit, Game Over.
The click draws Shinsou’s attention. Kaminari follows his shoes as they come into view. His eyes refuse to leave the floor until Shinsou crouches down and reaches out to bump his chin up with his index finger. He rests his arms on his knees and waits for Kaminari to speak. Shinsou still in his school uniform, tie and all. His purple hair and jacket are slightly rumpled, most likely from the impromptu nap he was taking the last time Kaminari saw him this morning. Warmth floods his chest, and is quickly swallowed by guilt when he realizes that Shinsou must have come here first. Based on his flush and the hair spilling over his forehead, he must have ran, which only makes the feeling stronger. Shinsou must have been so worried.
Kaminari’s brain catches up to the silence. He cringes at how rough his voice sounds, “It's part of my process.”
Shinsou raises an eyebrow, “Really? Because to me it looks like you're freaking out in there.”
His forced smile turns into a grimace when his voice cracks, “Nah! This is my study spot.”
He tilts his head, unimpressed. “Come out of the closet, Denki.”
Kaminari retreats into what space isn't taken up by unhung clothes and shoes instead. His response sounds too childish for his boyfriend to take him seriously.
“Make me,” he says.
Shinsou reaches for the DS clutched in his hands and gently takes it away. He leaves for a second to set it on the low table with care. When he comes back he extends his hand for him to take. Kaminari stares at it. He doesn't deserve him, he thinks. Kaminari shakes his head and takes his hand. He allows himself to be pulled up and lifted into his arms and carried until the backs of Shinsou’s shins collide with the edge of the bed. He sits with Kaminari in his lap. Just as he's settled his boyfriend then lays back, pulling Kaminari with him. Shinsou snickers at his complaining as he wriggles around until he's comfortable again. He settles in the cushion made by Shinsou’s arm, his arm wrapped around his boyfriend’s waist and his head tucked against his shoulder. Shinsou rests his hand in Kaminari’s hair and they lay like that in silence until Shinsou’s voice breaks it.
“What has you so worked up? Besides the obvious.” He pets Kaminari’s blonde hair and ignores the resulting static.
By ‘the obvious’ Kaminari figures he means the traitor among their class ranks. Shinsou spent the morning using his mind control quirk to aid the teachers in interrogations. Their teachers had spent the last few weeks collecting evidence on the second year hero courses. They had selected suspicious students, called them each into Principal Nezu’s office, and interrogated them one by one. Kaminari had been their last interrogation before Shinsou’s quirk hit its limit and he tapped out for a nap.
“How do you know I'm thinking about anything at all? It could be crickets up here for all you know.”
The joke didn't phase Shinsou. They rarely did these days, “I can feel your brain working like this. In fact It's kind of hurting my hand.”
Kaminari moves to sit up with apologies rolling off his tongue. Shinsou catches his arm and gently pulls him back down with assurances that he did nothing wrong. He wraps his arms around him and squeezes his shoulders. Kaminari knows that the pressure and the motion of his hand rubbing circles into his back is meant to relax him. It always has before, but not this time. The anxiety from this morning has only grown from a spark in the back of his mind to a constant current burning under his skin. His leg is twitching and he shoves it under Shinsou’s calf to make it stop.
“Talk to me,” Shinsou says.
Kaminari counters the request with a question, “How foolproof is your quirk?”
The hand on his back stills, “Are you asking in reference to this morning, or something else?”
“When you ask someone questions they have to tell you the truth, right? They have to no matter what.” With anyone else Kaminari would be embarrassed about how badly his voice is shaking.
The concern in Shinsou’s voice only adds to Kaminari’s guilt, “What is this about?”
There is a chance he doesn't deserve this concern, in fact somewhere deep down he knows he doesn’t. Kaminri tangles his fingers in his gaudy sheets to hide how badly they're trembling, “You can promise me that, right?”
“I,” Kaminari can hear Shinsou choosing his words, “I know that you believed everything you told me, and I can promise that you thought you were telling the truth. That's all that I can give you.” His long fingers rest on the back of Kaminari’s neck and nestle into his hair. Shinsou can feel how badly he is shaking, he knows that.
“Whoever the traitor is, I know it can't be you,” he says.
Suddenly his boyfriend's arms are too constrictive. Kaminari is having a hard time drawing breath into his lungs. Shinsou’s fingers feel like ice picks against his skin. He digs his fingers further into the sheets and pushes up, not caring that his legs are straddling Shinsou’s like this. His boyfriend obediently presses his hands against the blankets. Kaminari blames how badly he is shaking on the static crawling over his skin.
The tears return full force as he whispers, “You don't understand.”
Through the blur he can see Shinsou’s face pinched with worry, “Denki, you're scaring me. What's wrong?”
Suddenly even this is too close. Kaminari sits back on Shinsou’s legs. He reaches up to tangle his hands in his own hair, tugging so hard as he speaks that pulls some of it out. Static sparks between his scalp and his hands.
“I forget things! I'm missing so many days, Hitoshi. Remember that day last week where I broke my limit during hand to hand and fried myself for two hours?” Kaminari’s eyes are wild when he looks down at Shinsou, who doesn't get a chance to answer before he sucks in a breath that sounds more like a sob and plows forward. “Well I don't! I don't remember any of Thursday or Wednesday! The last thing I remembered was eating lunch Tuesday afternoon.”
Shinsou finally gets a word in when Kaminari starts to hiccup, “Yes, but that always happens. Plus we know what you were doing on Wednesday. After class you spent a few hours with Kirishima at the skatepark, and then you came back to the dorm and spent the night....with me.” He sits up and tries to move Kaminari’s hands before he does permanent damage to his scalp.
He shoves him away. By the time Shinsou comes to several seconds later with two new tender spots on his chest, Kaminari is pacing his tiny dorm room. From his windows hung in purple drapes, to the less than secure locked door, and then back again. He is already speaking, his waving hands creating arks of static in the air.
“-don't get it! I'm missing more than just training days. It doesn't matter if you think I'm telling the truth if I can't even remember what happened.”
Shinsou sits on the edge of the bed and follows his boyfriend with his eyes. His chest seizes when he realizes how long Kaminari must have been keeping this in. How long has he been adding up days and letting the guilt eat him alive?
The answer is several hours, but Kaminari’s brain works impressively fast once anxiety gets involved. It was a simple connection to make besides. “I lose days all the time. I go to bed on Friday and wake up Monday morning. I sit down to lunch on Tuesday and get out of my desk Wednesday afternoon. Do you even understand how frustrating that is!”
Shinsou opens his mouth, but Kaminari isn't waiting for his answer. “It drives me fucking crazy! And on top of that,” he laughs, but it doesn't even sound like him. It is unhinged and terrifies Shinsou to his core. “On top of that, I might be hurting people I really care about without even remembering it. For all I know I told Dabi how to hurt us back at camp right to his dumb scarred face and then fried myself so I couldn't tell.”
Kaminari stops laughing and starts coughing and can't make it stop. He halts his pacing in front of his desk to press his hands to the bottom of his chest. It hurts, stabbing and erratic pain that strikes just below his ribs. Static visibly arks over his skin and strikes the air around him. The sight of him trembling like this breaks Shinsou’s heart, if only Kaminari could hear it cracking from inside his bubble.
Shinsou stands but dares not get any closer to Kaminari while he's in this state. He learned that lesson the hard way. It takes several tries of calling his name before he looks up, tears spilling from his hazel eyes. He's shaking like a leaf in the wind and seems to barely hear Shinsou from where he is. There is a twist of guilt for what he is about to do, but better this than watching his boyfriend panic until he passes out.
“Denki, say something, I need you to say something.”
Kaminari gasps, “I'm-”
Shinsou gets sick to his stomach when his quirk activates and Kaminari freezes. It's only for a few seconds, he tells himself, just long enough to bring him back down.
“Breathe with me, in, out. Just like that.”
Kaminari struggles at first, stirring the seeds of Shinsou’s own panic. He manages on the second attempt to draw in another gasp, then an interrupted breath, then a full one. Between the release of the third full breath and the intake of the fourth Shinsou releases him, but Kaminari continues. He is still crying, but his eyes are clearer. He reaches out with one hand towards Shinsou and grasps his shirt when he comes close. He doesn't dare move until Kaminari steps in to press himself to his chest and clutch his uniform shirt with both hands. Shinsou rests his hand on his waist to reassure himself that he's breathing and waits for Kaminari to cry it out.
“Do you need to release your charge?”
Kaminari shakes his head, “I can't.”
“Ok. Ok. It's going to be ok, we can figure this out.”