Work Text:
A half of the semester had flown by. UA, as Kaminari had come to quickly realize, was a very stressful school. He hadn’t come for fun, though— so he figured he’d get himself together and at least focus some of his attention on passing his classes.
Now, contrary to what his peers seemed to believe, Kaminari was actually fairly intelligent. He wasn’t on Iida or Momo’s level, or even Midoriya’s, but he was good enough to be selected for this school and dumb enough to blame it on luck. And he had managed to make friends. Kirishima, Bakugo, Mineta (a bit gross and humiliating to admit), and even a girl, Mina. Although she behaved more as an outlandish hyena.
But there was something closer than a friend that he’d developed, too. It’s not surprising because Kaminari knows he’s a sucker for any female who shares his interests and offers a decimal of attention, but it was always present in his mind. The girl of his dreams— ok, ok, maybe he wouldn’t go so far. But she’s pale, thin, a bit boyish, and she’s awesome with instruments. And she loves collecting dead bugs. And she’s got an awesome sense of style.
The second week of school, this girl had pulled out a certain manga series Kaminari loves. She was cradling it in her lap and her fingers were treating the pages with such delicacy. And since they were basically seated shoulder to shoulder with little-to-no privacy, he watched her read out of the corner of his curious eye. She was a fast reader, he observed. And suddenly, her eye slid slowly to its corner, meeting his own— he blushed and turned to her abruptly because he desperately didn’t want to look like a creep. Even though he definitely is one.
“Hi Jirou!” He whispered, and then shut his eyes, dismay washing over his features. He wasn’t supposed to know her name. She never told him and they’ve never spoken. “I— I mean—,”
“Hi,” she closed her book, he cringes because she forgot to mark her page. “Kaminari. I can feel you staring…”
Her face is settled into an unsure blush.
“Oh. Um, I read that manga, too. Do you…” he scratched his neck. “Do you like Mysterious Girlfriend?”
“Yeah, I love it. What about you?” She— Jirou pulled her phone out from between her thighs, unplugged her ear jack and paused a very certain song. And Kaminari had basically squealed when he saw it because, wow, he loves that song— he loves that band.
“Y-you like Candlemass?” He stammered, reeling. She was obviously excited too because her eyes widened, and she threw her phone and the manga haphazardly into her messy backpack, turning to fully face him.
“Dude. I love Candlemass!” She had spluttered, covering her mouth with her hand— and her nails were purple and red, which are his favorite colors.
He grinned, “What’s your favorite song?”
She also grinned, “I really like Demon’s Gate— but Black Stone Wielder is really good too—“
“I’m guessing you’re more into Epicus Doomicus Metallicus?” He asked, but in the haste of his own excitement, gave her no time to answer. “My favorite album is Nightfall. And my favorite song is Black Candles.”
She nodded. “So you like the gothic stuff more than the metal stuff?”
He nodded. “Yeah— but I still like metal.”
Now she had started fidgeting, “You ever heard of Pantera?”
“I love Pantera.” He laughed quietly. “We’re kinda like clones of each other, at this point.” He didn’t miss the way her cheeks flushed and her ear jacks quivered when he said that.
“H-hey, let’s trade Spotify’s. Maybe we can… make a playlist together, or— or something?” Jirou murmured, pushing thin hair behind her sensitive ear. But before he could utter a reply, Aizawa boredly barked for them to pay attention and shut up.
That night, Jirou knocked on his door, hesitant. He opened it, slightly drowsy— god, he looked like a mess and it was slightly embarrassing. She had just giggled at the huge, heavy sweater sliding down his shoulder and the thick hair messily surrounding his face. She only smiled at the dried drool smeared on his left cheek, and the fact he was only in his boxers. And that he was asleep when it’s only 6:47 pm.
So he let her in. She was also in a sweater, but it was more fitted to her body. Their sweaters were the same color.
“How is this even a coincidence anymore!” He laughed, and she shrugged, absentmindedly raiding his mini fridge.
“Oh, you like mango milk too?” She said,
“Stop!” He shook his head, “this is getting scary— you can’t be real—“
But she grinned, slightly laced with mischief, and sat on his bed. “Oh,” she slid off her shoes, “Kaminari, I am very real.”
“Fuck, next you’re gonna say you like Elvira.” He jokes, fully expecting her to respond enthusiastically just like she has thus far. But instead, she blanked.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that.”
And Kaminari dramatically fell back on his bed— “Ah, Jirou, you’ve… killed me.” She giggled at his antics and it made his heart race. “Now we have to watch it.” He mutters.
So that’s how she ended up in his bed until 10 pm, watching a cheesy movie, eating snacks, and making a Spotify playlist. And even though she was beyond tired, and had already bid him farewell, they texted until 1 am in the privacy of their dorms. He was so happy. It was comical how much they had in common.
After that, they hung out pretty much every night. He played his keyboard for her, and she played her guitar for him— and they didn’t sound too bad when they played together.
One morning, after they stayed up until 4 AM on an audio call, playing a game and simply laughing in each other’s presence, neither remembered to hang up. It was the most comfortable 2 hours Kaminari had ever slept in his damn life. They didn’t hang up while they got ready, or even on the walk to class— but Jirou hung up once he opened the classroom door. Her ear jack poked him playfully when he sat down beside her, and he cussed loudly, slapping it away from him.
“We should do that more often.” She smiled that day, drawing her legs to her chest. “It was funny hearing you snore. You’re louder than my damn alarm, idiot.”
“Shut the hell up.” He murmured, but it was endearing, seeing the way she relaxed into her chair.
“You’re just mad you kept losing.” She rolled her eyes.
“Jirou.” He facepalmed, “you didn’t win nearly as much as me—“
“Pshh, finally you managed to beat me at something.” Jirou cackled. And he silently agreed before he took the fattest fucking nap ever.
And Kaminari was proud to call her his best friend. Of course he liked Kirishima, and even Mineta was hilariously tolerable to be around— but neither of them were even close to how much he longed to spend time with Jirou, his favorite person, his best friend. He found it comforting when she’d pass out on his bed, or when she’d leave her jacket on his chair. And even when she cussed him out and had to save him from a huge spider that managed to infiltrate his bathroom.
Jirou, his best friend, is the embodiment of warmth. He wanted to tie her shoelaces for her, hold her hand, and play her favorite songs on his keyboard. Maybe he loves her.
Fuck. He loves her.
And one night, the night that marked the third month of them being friends, the fourth month he’s been attending UA, she was sitting on his bed, boredly forking through a manga about cat girls. Her expression was blank.
“Hey, whatcha thinking about?” He yawned, cutting his phone off. She had quickly shut her book and turned to him.
“Ah, nothing— just really fucking bored.” She shrugged, and he grinned.
“I can fix that,” he raised his eyebrows, but she kicked him off of the bed, fake gagging for the dramatics.
“Oh hell, Kaminari is coming onto me in his room!” She shouts— and he obviously knows nobody is going to hear because she’s not nearly being loud enough, but he plays along with her exaggerated little scenario anyway.
“Yeah. Imma fuck you up, dawg.”
She laughed harder. “Please stop. You sound really,” a wheeze, “stupid.”
“Hmm, how about no. I’m not gonna let a woman tell me what to do… especially Jirou fuckin Kyouka.” He rolled his eyes—
“‘Fuckin’ is my middle name.” She purred, playful, and then they’re chasing each other around the whole complex, dodging their classmates throughout the kitchen and living room, knocking over various things and slamming pretty much every door that bothers to interrupt their wild chase.
She darted into her room, hasty to shut her door— but he stopped it with his foot, briefly brushed her ear jack and sent a soft surge of electricity through her most sensitive ear. She giggled and in a slight haze, fell back onto her bed.
Kaminari hadn't been in her room much. It was dimly lit, and her bed was slightly stiffer than his. Her walls were lined with posters and instruments.
Cautiously, he crawled over top of her.
“Eh, Jirou, you okay?” He pursed his lips. She just nodded, lolling her head to the side. “Hey. Look at me.”
She obeyed, but wrapped her legs around his abdomen, pulling him closer. Her eyes were lidded and she looked so, so happy, it warmed Kaminari’s heart.
“Ugh— I must’ve charged you too much. Fuck, I’m sorry, I— I forgot how sensitive your ears are— y’know I’d never like, intentionally corner you like this—“
“Shut up, stupid.” She rolled her eyes, and it was just then he’d noticed how closely pressed they were. Best friends don’t do this. They don’t smush their bodies intimately in a dark room. They don’t stare into each other’s eyes like it’s the last few seconds they’ll be alive, and most importantly, they don’t feel their chests exploding at such a close proximity. “I’m glad you… stay up with me.” she muttered.
“I can’t imagine what I’d be doing if I went to bed.” He bit his lip, holding his breath.
She merely stared into his eyes, submissive with expectancy, so he continued.
A sharp inhale. “Jirou—“
“Kyouka.” She corrected.
“Kyouka,” he continued, and his chest swelled with pride. “Kyouka, I want to tell you something, but I’m scared of how you’ll react.”
She pushed her heels into his back, as if reminding him that she’s fully pressed against him. And best friends don’t sit on top of each other in an empty bed. “Hm. Just put it hypothetically. How do you think I would react?”
“I think,” he trailed off, out of breath, sweaty and nervous. But his chest felt so elated and she looked so pretty underneath him. “… you would be okay.”
“Ok, try it.” She licked her lips.
“Kyouka. I like you. A lot.” He stammered.
She giggled, “I knew it! I knew it, you fuckface!”
“W-well I didn’t really try to hide it!” He spluttered, covering her face with his hand. But there’s a little slot where her eye peeked out, playful and loving. She stared at him like she loves him. Love.
“Guess what!~” she sang quietly, and he could feel the heat of her breath, her thin lips moving against his palm “I like you too, Denki.”
“I have a fat fucking crush on you, Jirou. I have ever since you told me you like Mysterious Girlfriend. And ever since you laid in my bed and we watched that stupid movie.” He admitted.
“Aw—“ she gushed, uncharacteristically, “that’s actually really cute.”
“D-don’t say that with such a stoic face!” He whined, and she pushed him off of her, quickly maneuvering her slim body to straddle his hips. Oh how the tables turned.
“What do you like about me?” She implored, resting her hands on his chest. He wasn't too sure where to rest his, so they settled on the outer expanse of her lower thigh.
A roll of the eyes, “I’m not answering that! You just want me to fuel your ego!”
“No I don’t!” She groaned, beating her fist into his chest. “Just tell me!”
And he laughed, a shy sound, because now that she’d allowed him to start gushing about her, he’s not too sure he’ll ever be able to stop.
“Hmmm… I like your ear jacks— man, I think I love them, actually.” He said fondly, and she stretched one forward, booping his nose softly with the metallic adaptor. He continued. “I like your guitar, I like your voice, I love that we have the same interests— wh-when I’m with you… I’m just really happy.”
She flushed but didn’t say much more. Didn’t tell him why she was attracted to him. Didn’t bother to explore her affection for him. He chalked it up to her being nervous.
The next day, he agreed to be her boyfriend, and their relationship was as it always was— but better, because he got the novelty of addressing her as his. She requested for their relationship to stay private for then, which he didn’t mind, but it did make him wonder if she was slightly ashamed of dating him. He knew she could meet far better. He didn’t find himself unattractive but he didn’t accept the thought that he was attractive enough for Jirou— because he knew he wasn’t.
On their third day of dating, he held her hand under their desks during class. It made his insides feel all mushy and warm, like they were apparating, and Jirou was smiling just as much as him.
After class that day, they cuddled for the first time in his room. He found himself immediately growing attached to the feeling— the prettiest, most powerful girl clinging to him like she needed him. It was intoxicating. The thought of being with her for the rest of his life made him smile.
“Hey, Kyoukaaa…” he mumbled, giving her soft body a squeeze. “I have a really big crush on you.”
He knows it’s mushy, but he can’t help it! It feels good to reaffirm things. To know she’s definitely real and definitely feels the same way and is definitely not going anywhere. Her existence, by his side, is definite. She’s not going to abandon him.
“I know.” She mumbled back, and it’s filled with emotion, but not as much as Kaminari’s voice. He chalked it up to her being tired.
The next morning, she doesn’t talk as much— but they were up late last night! However, Kaminari couldn’t help but sit awkwardly beside her, holding down tears of insecurity because of her odd distance. Before they were dating, she was usually all over him, even when she only got an hour of sleep because he kept her up. Something changed and it made his stomach feel disgusting, because all he wanted was her attention. And she didn’t seem interested in providing it. Cause’ he’s not attractive enough for her, and he just knows it— he can feel it.
He chalked it up to her being overwhelmed.
When the school day was over, she knocked on his door. She looked pretty, in his eyes— which were puffy from sobbing as soon as he was met with the comfort of his bed. Immediately, she looked worried, clicking the door softly shut behind her.
“U—um, Denki, what’s wrong?” She sounded so compassionate. But why was the feeling not in her eyes?
“Fuck— n—nothing, Kyouka. I’m fine.” He awkwardly tried to tidy his bed, wiped his fresh tears from his eyes. His chest felt empty and then it was interrupted with a surge of pain and hurt. Please, just love me and need me, too. He internally begged.
She cleared her throat. “Do… a-are you sure? Do you want to cuddle? And we can listen to some Candlemass?”
He just nodded, exhausted. She pushed him gently onto the bed and slotted herself comfortably against him, nonverbal and mind blank. The music played and she hummed against him because he likes her voice, he said so himself. And Jirou hates her voice.
Kaminari doesn’t register Jirou’s body pressed against his. Albeit warm, the feeling she’s bringing him… isn’t. He loves her. She obviously doesn’t love him back.
She’s trying her best, he tells himself. Shut up and fucking appreciate it.
He doesn’t know how long they’ve been there and he doesn’t know what they were listening to. It could’ve been his favorite song ever, which he would’ve excitedly belted out with Jirou complaining in his arms, but he can’t bother to think, for some reason. He’s only focused on her warmth. And now he’s only focused on wondering what changed when he told her he liked her. It hurts so bad but he knows he’s just over thinking. So, he chalked her silence up to her not knowing how to properly handle his emotions. And he can’t blame her for that.
Kaminari woke up the next morning and immediately showered, cleaning her rotten touch off of his body. He felt so sick to his stomach. And despite the weird feelings he was having, he confidently could admit he loved Jirou. Because he really does, and he knew she wouldn’t have asked him to be her boyfriend if she didn’t feel the same way. Still, he felt uneasy when he sat beside her.
But today, the 5th day they’ve been dating, she’s back to normal. Her hand ghosted over his before entwining their fingers, hard, and she rested her head on his shoulder.
“Good morning.” Her voice was soft and he could feel the back of her vocal cords vibrating against his shoulder. All of the uncertainty immediately is cleansed from his system— and maybe she was just having a bad day yesterday.
He leans his head on hers. “Mmm, good morning Kyouka.”
She’s not fully the same, but it’s a major improvement from yesterday. He felt at ease and the same, lovey, sappy warmth pooled in his stomach like disgustingly sweet honey.
Later that day, everyone is training, and Jirou decided to pair with Tokoyami. It left a little bit of a bitter taste in his mouth— but Kaminari knew the two are on good terms, friends, even— so he tried to swallow the ache in his Adam’s apple when he glanced over and saw her laughing, a genuine cry of happiness, at one of Tokoyami’s jokes. They’re just friends, he reminded himself.
Essentially, it’s the same as Kaminari being close with Mina. Except he doesn’t like Mina romantically, at all. Presumably, Jirou felt the same way about Tokoyami. Except Kaminari doesn’t know how she feels about the bird boy, at all.
He occupied his thoughts by practicing his quirk. Jirou likes him, she said so herself.
That night, he was sitting on her bed, slightly buzzed from the exertion of his quirk. Things are slipping out of him without an ounce of thought, but Jirou’s laughs are so beautiful, and he found himself enjoying her company more than he ever has. He never wanted it to end. So much attention is purely placed upon him, from the love of his life, the girl of his dreams.
It’s like as soon as he has the audacity to think those thoughts, it’s all ripped away from him. It’s only around 7. They could talk for at least 2 more hours— but she awkwardly cleared her throat, drawing her legs to her chest.
“Denki, I think I just wanna be alone right now, actually.” She made eye contact as she spoke. It should’ve been reassuring, but Kaminari found himself lost. It was so cruel how she blatantly showed she didn’t need him as much as he needed her. He felt stupid for believing they could spend the rest of the night laughing together, like old times.
Like a blow to the heart, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Sleep well.”
He muttered something similar and left, feeling bitter. He chalked it up to her needing space.
And now, Kaminari doesn’t sleep well. He texts her and tells her he feels like shit, and before he knows it, she’s knocking on his door.
“Denki, it’s Saturday, y’know, you can sleep in.” She rolls her eyes and lies beside him, holding his hand. It’s such a small, delicate act, but it immediately makes Kaminari feel better.
“Yeah… but I really want to see you.” He says, and his voice is so bashful— he can barely manage to stare at her without feeling stupid for saying such sappy things. But she just giggles and holds their entwined hands above their heads, analyzing how much bigger he is compared to her.
“I wanted to see you too, idiot.” She sighs. Kaminari is filled with so much content. Just him and his everything— he never wants it to end.
She hums at his silence and leans forward to rest her cheek upon his, staring into his eyes— and his heart is racing, he can’t feel his guts, and he sees a flicker of something exciting in her eye. Is she going to kiss him?
Raw and clumsy, she leans forward, and her mouth is on his. He can tell she’s nervous so he grabs her hips, hand still clasped with hers, and settles her on his lap. And when she pulls away, flushed and catching her breath, the flicker in her eye is gone.
Quivering, she pulls herself from his lap.
“Denki?” She chirps, small and uncertain, but he’s oblivious to the lack of love in her tone. He’s still so winded from their kiss.
“Yes, Kyouka?” He replies, utter happiness in his voice— because wow, Jirou just kissed him— she crawled on his lap and kissed him, she likes him too! She’s definitely his. They’re going to be together as long as time will allow, and he’s going to make her the happiest wife ever. He can feel it deep in his gut.
“I—I’m sorry.” She sharply inhales, staring blankly at her lap. “I don’t think I can mentally handle a relationship right now. I—it’s not your fault, really. I’m just… I have a big goal I want, and I don’t want anything to get in my way.”
And his gut churns, until it dies. He’s also staring blankly at his lap. He’s wondering why he doesn’t hurt as much as he should.
“It’s okay.” He mumbles. He doesn’t even sound like himself.
Her voice is warbly. “Denki, I like you. I really, really do. But I’m not sure if I’m ready for something like this.”
His throat feels dry. He feels so sick.
“A—and I know this isn’t what you wanted. And I’m so sorry— I feel like I led you on.” She whispers. He can literally hear every word and it hurts so bad.
“You… didn’t lead me on. It’s fine, Jirou, seriously. I didn’t have my hopes up anyway.” Kaminari furrows his brows. He just wants her to go. He can’t think when she’s beside him and she’s definitely not in love with him.
“I— Denki—“ she whimpers, and he can hear the hurt in her tone. “I still want to be your friend.”
He nods but it just feels like clockwork. He doesn’t feel special just because she’s taking pity on him. “Yeah, of course. We’re friends.”
She laughs. “Yeah, best buds.”
He doesn’t laugh, he waits for her to get the hint and leave.
“I—if you want to know more, or you need any closure, just come to me. I hope you understand.” Her voice breaks, he can tell she’s faltering. Good, feel stupid, he thinks.
He doesn’t want to call her a waste of time, but that’s all she was. And she ruined his life. For no fucking reason but her own uncertainty.
“Oh, trust me,” he smiles but his voice is beyond grim. “I understand. I don’t need closure.”
She nods, “Good— o-ok…”
“Just—“ he fights down a sob. “Tell me you absolutely do not like me. Tell me you don’t want anything to do with me, so I can just move on.”
“But I’d be lying. Denki, I do like you.” She nibbles her lip and he can feel her stare. It’s the worst set of eyes he’s ever had on him.
“Say it.”
“Oh…” she sounds hurt, but it weirdly eases his pain. He wants her to understand what she’s doing to him. It’s such a disgusting feeling and his heart is a mess. “Denki. I do not like you in the way you need me to. I see us better as friends, and I hope we can come to and end as that. Just friends.”
“Yeah,” he nods but he’s not sure what he’s nodding at. “Yeah, ok.”
“So… I guess this is goodbye?” She tucks her hair behind her ear, but she’s already dismissing herself from his bed.
“Not—“ he pauses and breathes shakily. “Not a bitter goodbye. But, like, if we ever cross paths again, it won’t be awkward because I know you.”
She smiles and opens his door, “Yeah, exactly! Thank you, Denki.”
“Thank you, Kyouka” he does not smile. They couldn’t even last a week.
And for the rest of the school year, he watches as she chats with everyone, and it’s blatantly clear she’s so much happier without him in her life. He doesn’t understand how she doesn’t hurt. Her life is perfect and she ruined his for no reason. He wishes she never met her. He doesn’t hate her but it’s eating him from the inside.
He lost his best friend.
He chalks it up to her being confused. Just an honest mistake on her behalf, right?