Work Text:
TW// Unsafe binding, dysphoria, depression
“It’s not enough. It’s not enough,” Denki mumbled as he struggled to put on his third binder. He knew that was he was doing was definitely going to hurt him, but he couldn’t care less about it right now. He was feeling extremely dysphoric, but he still had training later so he couldn’t just hide away in his room and hope for it to magically go away.
He reluctantly looked at himself in the mirror, and he almost cried at the sight of himself. He hated the fact that he still felt like a girl in this body. His chest wasn’t flat, his voice wasn’t deep and he even felt like he didn’t have enough hair on his body to pass as a guy.
Deep down he knew this was all bullshit, and that people wouldn’t see him as any less for this, but the little voice in his head kept telling him the opposite.
“Fuck!” Denki cried, tugging at his hair as he fell to the floor, his knees taking some damage, but the pain is bearable.
Ping
From: Kiri 🦈
I'm leaving my dorm now, want me to stop by your room? Or should we just meet there?
Denki paused, wiping his tears from his face, hiccuping as he re-read Kirishima’s message.
“Kill me,” he mumbled under his breath as he mentally prepared himself to leave his room and go out and train.
To: Kiri 🦈
You can go ahead on without me. I’ll see you there :)
Read
Kaminari sighed, looking around his room, spotting his running shoes under his bed, and his training clothes were in a messy pile on his bed.
His room was definitely more messy than he would like to admit, with clothes and food and wrappers everywhere around his room. What could he say? His depression had gotten bad again, like pretty bad, but he tried not to let it show when he was around his classmates. He was already seen as an idiot, so he’d rather not be known as ‘that one depressed idiot in class 1A’.
Denki slapped himself in the face using his palms to get himself ready, changing quickly and strategically avoiding the mirror, before he grabbed his gym bag and headed out the door.
He wiped the tears off his face a few more times before he tried to relax himself.
“Don’t worry Denki,” he murmured to himself under his breath as he walked towards the elevator, “you’re going to be fine.”
He was lying to himself. Doing anything on dysphoric days wasn’t pleasant, but training, that’s a whole other story.
He always felt like he needed to push himself two times harder to prove to his classmates that he was a guy, a strong guy he who what he was doing.
Denki felt himself tense up when he approached the training rooms. He knew it was just Kirishima, but there was that gut-wrenching feeling in his stomach that made him feel sick. He felt like his intestines were being beaten up by a blender and then tossed onto a rollercoaster.
After a few deep breaths, Denki walked into the training room, immediately spotting Kirishima by one of the punching bag stations.
“Denki,” Kirishima smiled, taking out his headphones when he noticed Denki by the door. “You made it.”
“Mhm,” Denki nodded, dropping his stuff by the bench, “I did make it.”
“What do you wanna start with?” Kirishima asked, taking a look around the room.
“Uh,” Denki looked around as well, his eyes landing on the weights in the middle of the room. “Do weights sound good?”
“Yeah!” Kirishima said enthusiastically, walking over the area, picking out a set of weights that were 40 pounds.
Kaminari watched from a distance how Kirishima made it look so easy as he changed knot his training shoes. He hated to admit it, but he was jealous of Kirishima. In his eyes, Kirishima was perfect. He was smart, he was nice, he had a nice body and he was born in it. He had the body of a guy and Denki was jealous of that. He wished every day that he could have been as lucky as him.
Denki hunched over, a look of embarrassment washing over his face, as he trotted over to where Kirishima was.
He grabbed some weights that were 20 pounds and began following Kirishima’s movements.
After a while, Denki’s ribs and chest really started to hurt. It was extremely painful for him to breathe and to continue moving. He knew exactly why he was hurting, but he couldn’t be bothered with taking off his binders.
Kirishima threw a punch, a heavy one, causing Denki to trip over his feet and stumble onto the floor.
“Shit,” Eijirou cursed, immediately kneeling on the ground where Kaminari was laying, trying to catch his breath. “Denks, are you okay?”
“Mhm,” he winced in pain, hoping his friend didn’t catch that.
“You don’t look ‘okay’”. Kirishima eyed Denki, looking for any open injuries. He felt a bit of relief when he didn’t see anything bruised or bleeding.
“I am, I promise,” Denki lied. If he kept his binder on for any longer he would very easily break his ribs.
“Denks,” Kirishima’s voice was firm, “are you lying?”
Denki felt like a deer caught in the headlights. He looked away from Kirishima, a shame and embarrassment clearly evident on his face.
“I just, let me, I need to,” Denki didn’t even know what he was saying. He quickly ran out of the training room, completely ignoring Kirishima’s calls.
He barely managed to make it to the changing room, before he nearly passed out. He was quick to take off his binders, which were now laying on the floor beside him. He slipped his shirt back over his head, and carefully laid out on the floor, his arms stretching with him.
Denki laid out on the floor in a starfish position, his arms behind his head as he closed his eyes and listened to his body.
He was so focused on his breathing and making sure he was okay, that he didn’t notice Kirishima enter the changing room.
“Um,” Kirishima said, letting Denki know of his presence. “You forgot your bag so I brought it.” Kirishima’s eyes scanned over Denki, and then around him, noticing the three binders laying on the floor.
“Thanks,” Denki mumbled, sitting up, taking the bag from his red-haired friend.
“Kami,” Kirishima spoke softly as he sat on the floor beside his friend. “Please don’t tell me you wore three binders today.”
Denki didn’t look at Kirishima, he felt ashamed his friend found out his secret, and that he wasn’t binding correctly.
“You know now,” Denki mumbled, fidgeting with his fingers, picking at the skin and nails.
“I do,” Kirishima said gently placing his hand over Denki’s to stop him from picking his skin. “But that doesn’t change anything. You’re still Denki Kamiari.”
“But I’m not a real boy.” Denki felt fresh tears form in his eyes, as he laid his head over on Kirishima’s shoulder.
“Yes you are,” Eijirou tried to reassure him. “You’re one of the manliest guys I know.”
“Really?” Denki asked through a hiccup, wiping at his tears once more.
“I wouldn’t lie to you, Denks,” Kirishima smiled, patting Denki’s head in a form of comfort.
“Hm,” Denki hummed, closing his eyes and relaxing at the warmth radiating off Kirishima.
The two sat in comfortable silence for about twenty minutes as Denki calmed himself down once more. Kirishima just kept patting Denki’s head and stroking his back, which seemed to be helping.
“As nice as this is,” Kirishima said, breaking the silence, “we should probably get off the floor and go back to the dorms before everyone starts looking for us.”
“Oh,” Denki gave out a laugh, “I forgot we were still in the change room.”
Denki reached out for his binders, about to grab one and change in the bathroom stall before Kirishima grabbed his hand.
“Don’t you dare put a binder on right now,” Kirishima’s tone was serious.
“I-,” Denki sighed, “fine.” He shoved his binders into his gym back, grumbling something incoherent under his breath.
“Here,” Kirishima slid his hoodie over his head and handed it to Denki, “my hoodie is bigger, might help you feel less dysphoric.”
“Thanks,” Denki smiled as his face flushed and the tips of his ears began to get a little red.
Denki quickly changed, putting away his own sweater before he let Kirishima know it was okay to turn around.
“You in the mood for some carrot cake?” Kirishima asked as they started walking back to the dorms.
“Strangely, yes.”