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At this time of night, Izuku’s not expecting any visitors. Shouto, Ochako, and Tenya have only just left after a long, gruelling study session, and Izuku is getting ready to finally crawl into bed. He’s exhausted. From his studies, from training, from all the pressure he’s putting on himself, and from his royal fuck-up nearly two weeks ago, now. He hasn’t been able to put it out of his mind entirely, no matter how hard he tries.
Guilt is a familiar emotion for Izuku. Whether deserved or not, it’s something he feels often, for reasons big and small. But this time? This time, he knows he deserves it. He watched the harm he caused playing out in real time; in Kaminari’s face, in Katsuki’s, in the tension he observed between the two of them in the days following, and how they can both barely look at him. Just thinking about it makes him feel heavy, his stomach twisting into knots.
If there’s any comfort Izuku can find in this situation, it’s that Kaminari and Katsuki seem to be on speaking terms again. Izuku saw them this afternoon, seated at one of the dining tables in the common room: Katsuki was scrawling away in his workbook, Kaminari at his side picking at a plate of food that Katsuki no doubt put together for him. So, that’s something. If nothing else, Izuku didn’t destroy their friendship irreparably.
But he may have destroyed his own relationships with both of them. And that…
It hurts. He knows he doesn’t deserve to feel that, but he does. Much as he knows the sentiment isn’t returned, he’s always cared deeply about Katsuki. Loved him, even. And Kaminari is someone that he likes a lot, respects, cares about. He’s always liked to think that Kaminari feels the same. But if that were true before, Izuku’s having a hard time believing that it is, now.
So, he’s not expecting any visitors.
But just as Izuku’s pulling back his covers to climb into bed, there’s a knock at the door. It’s soft, maybe hesitant, and if it weren’t for that fact, he might be annoyed. As it is, Izuku simply smooths his blanket back down and turns to open the door.
Kaminari waves timidly. “Um, hi.”
Izuku blinks, mouth falling open as if to speak. Nothing comes out. He waves back with his free hand instead, the other still gripping the doorknob.
“Can I come in?”
“Y-yeah, of course!” Izuku nods, hastily stepping back and pulling the door open wider for his classmate. He closes it behind them and turns to Kaminari, his stomach tight with nerves as he says, “Do you want to, um, sit?”
Kaminari nods, turning Izuku’s desk chair to face his bed and sitting. Izuku takes the implication and settles down on his mattress across from Kaminari.
For a moment, neither says anything. Izuku is racing through different ideas about where to start, whether to prompt Kaminari to speak first, if he should apologize, if it’s possible this has nothing to do with their last interaction, or if he should just sit here quietly until Kaminari decides to say something, or ask Izuku to.
“You’re mumbling,” Kaminari murmurs. It’s become a habit of Izuku’s classmates to point this out to him gently, given that it happens so often, and at times results in saying things out loud that he really shouldn’t.
Izuku snaps his mouth shut, tensing up with a grimace.
“Sorry,” he says. “Um. What’s up?”
As he leans back in his seat, Kaminari takes a deep breath. He’s picking at his fingernails, and he can’t quite meet Izuku’s eyes.
“It’s just, uh. Well- you know… what happened.”
Izuku frowns deeply, that guilt bubbling up painfully in his chest. “I do. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s…” Kaminari closes his eyes and groans, rubbing his face. When he looks up again, he manages to meet Izuku’s gaze this time, his cheeks pink from the friction. He continues, “It’s not okay, but I didn’t- I wasn’t looking for an apology. It’s not like you, I dunno, read my diary or purposely eavesdropped on me and Kats. You, uh, you said you stopped him from telling you everything. Figured it out yourself?”
With a nod, Izuku replies, “I did. Or at least, I was pretty sure. I wasn’t entirely confident.”
“Right. So I guess I just- I’m just wondering what you actually, like, figured out. And what Kats told you. Because I sort of assumed, in the moment, and freaked out, and then… I dunno, I didn’t think to ask Kats what he said because now we’re talking again and I guess I don’t wanna screw it up,” Denki explains.
It makes a lot of sense, now that Izuku thinks of it. They didn’t exactly do a lot of talking in the locker room that day. Mostly just stammering and some crying and then running, and yelling on Katsuki’s part.
“Sure, of course,” Izuku says. “Um, well basically- Kacchan really didn’t say a lot, but he said that you were being quiet. And that he’d seen, uh, like, bruises on your neck, and also that you asked him a question about sex. That’s really all he said. So, I figured… I didn’t know exactly how or anything, but I thought someone probably hurt you. As-assaulted you.”
Kaminari’s reaction is instant. He breathes out a long breath and drops his face into his hands, deflating completely, awash with relief.
“Oh my God,” he giggles, “Fuck, that’s not at all what I expected. He didn’t even know, yet.”
And that. That relief, that little peal of laughter, it’s enough to ease so much of the tension in Izuku’s body. He lets himself loosen, even smiles a little because it’s just so nice to hear Kaminari’s genuine laugh after everything, and wipes his sweaty palms on his sleep shorts.
“Yeah…” he trails off, uncertain where to go from here.
Kaminari straightens after allowing himself to chuckle and shake his head for a bit longer. The mirth quickly drains from his expression, leaving exhaustion behind, but he doesn’t look upset anymore.
“I’m sorry I freaked out. This has been… I’m, uh.” Kaminari begins to sway, rocking back and forth just enough for it to be obvious as he says, “I don’t think I’m dealing with all of this very well. I don’t really want to say everything that happened, but yeah. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Kaminari, it’s okay! I’m not upset. I totally get it,” Izuku reassures him. “I- well, obviously I’ve never been through anything like that, but… I can imagine it’s probably been really difficult.”
His classmate smiles bitterly. He opens and shuts his mouth a couple of times, as if searching for something to say, before he eventually shrugs, staying silent.
In that space, Izuku’s urge to problem-solve arises, and he knows there is very little that he can offer to fix this for Kaminari. This isn’t like when he’s in the midst of a villain attack, and a few broken fingers or arms could mean the difference between life and death. This is the aftermath. The villain already did his damage, already escaped, leaving Kaminari to try and pick up the pieces. That thought, however, brings up an idea for Izuku—one he’s become intimately familiar with after everything he’s been through.
“Have you considered, uh- of course you don’t have to tell me anything at all, but have you thought about maybe talking to someone else about it?” he asks.
Kaminari’s brow furrows. “I talk to Kats…?”
“No, no, I mean like…” Izuku feels like he has to brace himself, taking a stiff inhale, “Like a counselor. A therapist.”
Immediately, he knows this conversation is at a very high risk of going badly, because Kaminari’s face drains of colour. His swaying stops, and he interlaces his fingers, knuckles going white.
“I don’t- is that- I’m… I don’t know if I can,” he stammers, “I can barely talk to Kats about it, I. A stranger? What if they- what if they decide I’m too messed up to be a hero and tell Nezu to expel me? Or they tell my parents? Or I, what if talking about it more just… makes it worse?”
As Izuku listens, he recognizes all of the fears that Kaminari is expressing. He remembers in middle school, before All Might, before One For All, when his mother first decided he needed to speak with a therapist. He remembers how he sat with that first one and barely said a word if it wasn’t to ramble about All Might and his other favourite heroes, and how it took until they’d cycled through two more therapists for him to finally meet one who he felt he could speak to. Even then, it took Izuku months of weekly sessions to begin to tell the man about everything: the severe and vicious bullying, the loss of his childhood friend, and how he grieved so deeply his inability to ever become a hero.
Given that, Izuku feels, finally, like maybe he can help with something here.
“You know, the reason I suggest it is because I go to therapy, so I’ve had a lot of the same worries,” he says.
Kaminari looks at him, wide-eyed and nervous, “You do?”
“Uh-huh. It is… really hard, honestly. I struggled a lot in middle school, which is why I started going. And it took me a long time to feel like it was actually helping. But it did help, eventually, and a lot.” Izuku crosses his legs, shifting to get more comfortable before he continues, “And, um, there’s this whole thing about confidentiality when you go to counselling, so it would be illegal for whoever you spoke to, to tell anyone about what you say. The only time they’re allowed to tell anyone is if you threaten to hurt other people, or yourself. And not, like, thoughts about it, but actually intention to do it. So, um, yeah.”
“Oh… I didn’t know all that.”
Izuku shrugs, smiling weakly.
“It really helped you?” Kaminari asks.
“It did. I mean, I wasn’t dealing with the same things, of course, and everyone is different, but- you know, I think it’s worth considering, maybe,” Izuku says.
“Yeah…” Kaminari trails off for a moment, then pushes himself to his feet, “Yeah, I’ll think about it.”
Izuku stands in kind. He isn’t sure Kaminari is convinced, or even if he truly means it when he says he’ll think about it, but Izuku’s hopeful that he will. He hopes that, for what little he can offer in this horrific situation, it might amount to something good. Or even just something better. As Kaminari sets the chair back in its original place, Izuku clasps his hands behind his back.
“Um, Kaminari?”
“Yeah?” his classmate turns to face him again.
His eyes are tired, hair messy, clothes wrinkled. Despite all of that, despite the clear undercurrent of pain he’s living with, there is something that’s still so distinctly him about how he presents himself. For as little as they may truly know each other, a part of Izuku is certain that Kaminari isn’t lost to himself. Isn’t broken beyond repair.
He’s wounded. Deeply. But Izuku knows a lot about wounds, and he knows they can heal, even if the scar tissue is gnarled and tender.
“I’d… I’d really like to give you a hug. Would you feel comfortable with that?” he asks.
There’s no uncertainty in the silent nod Kaminari responds with. It’s jerky and quick, but that hastiness reads to Izuku as genuine desire. So, he opens his arms and steps into Kaminari’s bubble, folding him into a careful embrace. Kaminari’s grip is tentative and light, his body tense, but he’s quick to return the hug all the same. Izuku presses his hands into Kaminari’s back, rests his chin light on his shoulder, and gives a slow squeeze. He remembers an evening in the common room, before all this, overhearing Kaminari explain to Sero the comfort he finds in deep pressure. Izuku hopes that still rings true.
It seems to, because the tension in Kaminari’s shoulders slowly recedes. It doesn’t dissipate entirely, but as Izuku holds him in the quietness and the dim lights of his room, Kaminari begins to feel less and less stiff, like a doll, and more like a warm, soft person.
He doesn’t let go until Kaminari does.