Chapter Text
Looking back, Kaminari can pinpoint the exact moment he knew he was in trouble. The moment Kirishima walked through the doors of Alliance, Tetsutetsu and Shinsou trailing behind him, he should have known he was fucked. It all seemed so normal at the time. Well, hindsight’s twenty-twenty.
Kirishima, Tetsutetsu, and Shinsou made a beeline for the kitchen as soon as they entered the building, all their hair dripping wet, as if they all got out of the shower. Kaminari sat at the dining table, a cup of tea and an A. E. Housman collection in front of him. All his classmates had long since retired to their rooms. Even though it was a Friday, and everyone usually watched a movie, training had been brutal. Everyone needed some rest. Everyone aside from Kirishima, apparently. Kaminari vaguely remembered Kirishima saying he was going to go work out with Tetsu and Shinsou at lunch.
The three didn’t seem to notice him as they came in, which he didn’t particularly mind. The quiet of the dorms was nice. Kaminari tried to fall asleep, but the nightmares from first year were too much again. He was content with his tea and his poetry in the silence.
Kaminari could hear Kirishima rummaging around in the kitchen, no doubt trying to find where Bakugou kept his good protein bars. Eventually, the three came back into the common room, bars and bottles of water in hand, and sat at the table.
“What’re you still doing up, bud?” Kirishima asked quietly. Kaminari shrugged, bookmarking his page and closing the book.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he said simply. Kirishima nodded.
“We were gonna watch some show Shinsou told us about, if you want to join,” the redhead offered. Kaminari looked at Shinsou.
“What show?” A thin smile spread across Shinsou’s face.
“Some documentary series about an old serial killer.”
“Morbid,” Kaminari said, not sure what to make of the boy. Sure, he’d known Shinsou for about two years, but they never really talked. Once Shinsou got placed in Class B, they never really saw each other outside of joint training. Maybe a nod in the cafeteria here and there, but that was about it.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Shinsou said, leaning across the table, a lazy smile on his face.
His lilac hair, now a deeper purple from his shower, was slicked back, a few strands falling into his eyes. They framed his face, perfectly accenting his sharp cheekbones. Amethyst bore into amber as Shinsou stared into Kaminari’s eyes.
Looking back, that was the moment. The moment Kaminari was caught, and he didn’t even know it.
“Promise?” Kaminari responded, now leaning across the table as well.
“I’d never lie to you,” Shinsou said, pulling back with a wink. “We staying down here or going to your’s?” he asked Kirishima.
“Aizawa will be doing rounds soon, so let’s go up to mine. I don’t want you two getting in trouble for being out past curfew again,” Kirishima laughed. Tetsutetsu shoved him lightly.
“How were we supposed to know the trains were under maintenance?” he asked, smiling. Shinsou shook his head, also laughing. They made their way up to Kirishima’s room quietly, making sure not to wake anyone.
“Kirishima told us if we wake Bakugou, he’s not going to protect us,” Shinsou whispered to Kaminari as they walked by the blond’s room.
“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from him,” Kaminari joked. Shinsou smiled and threw an arm around Kaminari's shoulders.
“Aw,” he quietly cooed. “My hero.” Kaminari snickered and the two followed Kirishima and Tetsutetsu into the redhead’s room.
“Make yourselves at home.” Kirishima threw his arms out, gesturing to his set up. A pile of cushions and blankets sat on the floor at the foot of his bed. In front of the cushions stood a TV stand with an older flat screen on top. Kaminari immediately claimed his favorite cushion, a large orange one with tassels on the corners. He set his book down next to him. Tetsutetsu chose a circular red one and Kirishima plopped down in between him and Kaminari on a matching green one. Shinsou sat next to Kaminari on a blue cushion with cloud designs on it.
“You want some blanket?” he asked Kaminari, leaning closer to the blond. He offered him the other side of a fluffy white blanket.
“Sure.” Kaminari took the end out of Shinsou’s hands, their fingers brushing slightly. His hands were warm.
“Thanks,” Kaminari whispered as Kirishima searched for the show on a streaming platform.
“No problem.” Shinsou winked at him again and made himself comfortable. Kirishima hit play on the show and the four fell into comfortable silence.
About halfway through the third episode, Kaminari noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head enough to see Shinsou craning his neck to read the title of his book. Silently, he picked it up and handed it to the purple-haired boy.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, sounding a little embarrassed. “I was just curious.”
“It’s all good,” Kaminari said, smiling.
“You big into poetry?” he whispered, close to Kaminari’s ear. The blond shrugged.
“It helps me think about stuff deeper,” he said, leaning closer to Shinsou but keeping his eyes on the screen. There had been a break in the case and a detective was being interviewed.
“What do you mean?” Shinsou whispered back. Kaminair could feel his breath on his ear. He made no effort to pull away.
“Like, some people train their brains through crosswords or word jumbles. I just analyze poetry.”
“That’s cool as hell,” Shinsou responded. “So you, like, annotate and stuff?” Kaminair nodded, his eyes still locked on the screen. Now the narrator was saying the suspect tried to flee the country.
“Yeah. If you want, you can borrow the book,” he whispered. “I’ve read it like four times.”
“Sure,” Shinsou said. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Kaminari turned his head to finally look at the other boy. The television cast a blue glow across his features. His hair was starting to frizz into its normal, gravity-defying position.
They stared at each other for a moment. Kaminari finally realized just how close Shinsou was. If he moved his head a few more inches, their noses would touch.
He smiled at the purple-haired boy and turned back towards the screen.
The next morning, Kaminari woke to find his head on something warm.
Something warm that was definitely too hard to be a pillow.
He slowly opened his eyes to find himself staring at Shinsou’s chest. In the night, he managed to place himself so his head laid in the crook of the other boy’s neck. He quietly pulled away and left the room in a sleep haze, missing his own bed. He was out as soon as he hit the pillow. In the final moments between sleep and awake, Kaminari thought about how he missed the warmth of Shinsou’s chest.
A few hours later, he was awoken by knocking on his door. Kaminari groaned and threw an arm over his eyes.
“Come in,” he called. He heard the door open and shut, but didn’t open his eyes until he felt weight settling next to him on the bed.
“It’s like, noon, dude,” Kirishima teased. “Get your ass up.” Kaminari sat up and rubbed his eyes.
“I’m up, I’m up,” he grumbled. He shooed Kirishima off the bed and got up so he could make it.
“So,” Kirishima started. “You seemed to have fun last night.” Kaminari shrugged as he plopped his pillows on to the floor.
“Yeah. You know I love Tetsu,” he said, straightening the blankets. “And Shinsou’s cool. I’m letting him borrow my Housman collection.”
“Cool, cool,” Kirishima nodded. “He-uh, he left you his number.”
“What?” Kaminari asked, placing the pillows back on his newly made bed.
“Shinsou,” Kirishima clarified. “He gave me his number to give to you.” The redhead shifted nervously from one leg to the other, which went unnoticed by his friend, who was folding an extra blanket.
“Oh, sick,” Kaminari said, not looking up from his folding. “He’d probably be a good study buddy. He seems quiet, like, I won’t get distracted.” Kaminari set the blanket down at the foot of his bed.
“Yeah, yeah,” Kirishima agreed. “But, uh.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t think that’s what it was for.” Kaminari sat down on his bed and looked up at his friend.
“Then what was it for?” he asked. Kirishima looked at him, incredulously.
“Kami,” he said in disbelief.
“Kiri,” Kaminair said, jokingly matching tone.
“Dude!” Kirishima exclaimed, throwing his arms up.
“What?” Kaminari asked, genuinely confused.
“You two were flirting all night!” Kirishima said, shoving his friend’s shoulder. Kaminari stood up and shoved back.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, laughing a bit.
“The whispering, the leaning in to each other. Hell, you were sharing a blanket for the whole night! You fell asleep on him!” Kirishima yelled, poking Kaminari’s shoulder.
“That’s how I am with everyone!” Kaminari yelled back, poking Kirishima’s shoulder in retaliation.
“No, it isn’t,” Kirishima said, stopping the poking. “With us, me, Sero, Mina, Bakugou, your bros, you’re so much more intense.”
“So? I’m just touchy. I barely know him. I wasn’t gonna throw myself at him,” Kaminari said, sitting back down on the bed. He patted the spot next to him, inviting Kirishima to join him. The redhead sat.
“Yeah, but I’ve seen you flirt. Like really flirt. It’s calmer. Like, a lot calmer than how you normally are. When was the last time you were like that with someone? Like how you were last night?” Kirishima asked, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Slowly, the pieces began to click into place. The closeness, the eye contact, the not pulling away. He’d done it all before. And he almost hated Kirishima for bringing it up.
“Don’t make this about Kyouka,” Kaminari said, shrugging Kirishima’s hand off.
“I’m not,” Kirishima said, exasperated. “I’m just saying. The similarities are uncanny.” They sat in silence for a bit, Kaminari reflecting on the previous night.
The hair framing the sharp cheekbones.
The glow of the television on his skin.
The closeness of his breath.
The smile he gave Kaminari when he lent him the book.
The warmth of his chest in the morning.
Kaminari realized he didn’t mind it. Not only did he not mind it, but he almost… wanted it back.
“Shit,” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” Kirishima agreed.
“Is this my gay awakening?” he asked.
“Hell if I know,” Kirishima responded.
Kaminari thought about Shinsou, leaning across the table in the common room, eyes boring into his. Those eyes were inviting. They were playful. They were beautiful.
And they might just be the death of him.