Chapter Text
Hitoshi Shinso lived a pretty normal life. He fell asleep at night (difficult, to say the least). He woke up in the mornings (not because he wanted to). He grabbed a cup or two of coffee in his pajamas (his dad should stop buying it, Shinso and his other dad drank too much of it). He fed the cats on Mondays and Thursdays and emptied the litter box on Sunday afternoons. He wished he could take the bus to school, but he had to ride with his dads in their old minivan because both of them were teachers there. So he was never in on any of the drama, at least until his friend Mina caught him up in the halls before first period (Introduction to Psychology for him, Art History for her).
He enjoyed his high school life as a senior, for the most part. He got to take the courses that he liked, got good grades, the cafeteria food was definitely better than other schools’, and his social life was better than the movies usually portrayed for a lanky, purple-haired awkward insomniac. He wasn’t popular, he was actually sort of in the background. But he didn’t mind. He was usually too tired to interact with too many people, being an insomniac and all. He barely had enough energy for the mandatory Phys Ed class in fourth period every day.
His school was pretty athletic-based, the reason for the mandatory Phys Ed class. He would rather have been at a more academic-focused school, but as mentioned before, his parents worked at UA high, so he would have to live with it. And like I said, it wasn’t so bad.
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That brings us to May 3, 2029. It was, quite literally, the same as any other day. He fell asleep the night before after taking some NyQuil, woke up the next morning, had his coffee while Mr. and Mr. Yamada-Aizawa graded papers and the like, fed the cats, hugged Eri, et cetera et cetera.
I’m being quite serious with you. I’m not going to pull any plot twists. It was a Thursday like any Thursday. Absolutely nothing special about it. The only reason we’re talking about it at all is because it’s where our story begins.
Shinso was at his locker, Mina jabbering on and on beside him. Apparently Todoroki, the most popular guy (and arguably the most attractive) at their school had asked “some dude” to Senior Prom. According to his pink haired friend, Todoroki’s date had burst into tears when asked. Shinso knew who the lucky guy was as soon as the word “tears” had passed his Mina’s brightly colored lipstick.
“Ah, I know who you mean. That’s most likely Midoriya, from my Chem class.” The short, green haired kid was known for crying. Shinso was actually kind of happy for the guy. He was always nice to him and let Shinso borrow his notes if he needed them. “That’s cool, what did Midoriya s- mgph!”
“Sorry,” Mina whispered, “I had to shut you up.”
“Well, you could’ve just said that,” Shinso hissed back, shoving her hand out of his mouth.
“Don’t look now, but Bakugo’s coming in this general direction. And he’s holding balloons!” Mina whisper-yelled.
Shinso turned around, ignoring her warning to “not look now”. He wouldn’t believe it until he saw it for himself.
It was true. Katsuki Bakugo, visibly blushing, was stalking down the hallway with that weird gait of his, holding red balloons and a sign that read “Prom. With me. Not a question.” in big, blocky letters.
Shinso followed him with his eyes, bewildered, along with most of the school.
“Stop staring, extras!” Bakugo snarled at them as he passed.
They didn’t, watching him stomp up to Kirishima, hand him the balloons and hunch awkwardly in the middle of the hallway.
“Well, Shitty-Hair?” he practically shouted (who am I kidding, he actually shouted).
Kirishima just nodded. He jumped forward and wrapped his thick arms around the blond’s neck, who was surprised to say the least. The expression on Bakugo’s face was one of complete shock, disbelief, and discomfort at the number of people watching.
Denki was filming, shaking with silent laughter. Shinso sighed, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He turned back to his locker. He would get the video from Denki later.
Prom. The whole school was buzzing about it. Shinso didn’t plan on attending, and, for the record, this story doesn’t revolve around the cliché dance. He did end up going, but that’s for another time. And it’s only because Mina forced him.
Shinso didn’t really see himself going with anyone. He’d had crushes before, but they were irrelevant and didn’t really affect his day to day life. Prom was basically just an annoyance to Shinso.
“See you at lunch, Shinso,” Mina sang, skipping through the thinning crowd. “First bell’s about to ring, you should get to class.”
Shinso rolled his eyes. He tried to pull his textbook out of his locker, but it slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground. He exhaled a “Crap”, bending to pick it up.
“Here, I got it,” said Denki’s familiar voice. Shinso was about to say thanks, but then he experienced a particularly powerful static shock. It was because someone brushed against him, but it wasn’t one of those clichés where you get an electrical charge when you make contact with your love interest.
It was because Kaminari Denki was weirdly prone to causing people to experience a little jolt of energy. He even dyed a part of his bright yellow hair with a little black lightning bolt, which Shinso found slightly endearing.
“Ouch!” Shinso yelped, straightening.
“Sorry, Kitten,” Denki joked. He was constantly using extremely stupid nicknames for people. Shinso thought that it was because everyone called him Pikachu and he secretly hated it.
Mina’s Alien (because she insists on wearing neon pink), Sero’s Cellophane (because he has a weird obsession with tape), Kirishima’s The Rock (because he’s super ripped and his abs are hard as, well, rock), and Sir Denki hath dubbed Bakugo... (wait for it)... Lord Pomeranian (but he only calls him that behind his back).
Shinso groaned at the nickname, but his heart wasn’t really in it. He couldn’t stay mad at Denki for long. He was Shinso’s first real friend, after all.
“Whatever, Pikachu,” he scoffed, snatching the book from Denki’s outstretched hand, careful not to make contact to avoid another shock. At least he was a little more awake now. He pivoted, making his way towards his class.
“Not even a thank you? Rude,” Denki shouted at him, walking backwards, hands raised in disbelief, a grin spread wide across his face.
Shinso didn’t even turn, just flashed him the finger from behind, hearing the blond’s shocked gasp riddled with sarcasm. Shinso knew him well enough to know that he was pretending to be wounded. He was never a very good actor, though, so he probably wasn’t doing a very good job of it.
“See you at lunch, idiot,” Shinso called.
“You’ll be lucky if I grace you with my presence after you hurt me so,” Denki said dramatically, most likely with the back of his hand on his forehead.
“You need some acting lessons with Aoyama,” Shinso advised, determined to get the last word in. He shook his head as he turned the corner and pushed open the door to his class.