Chapter Text
Kaminari invites him over for a sleepover and, for whatever reason, Hitoshi feels nervous.
He tells himself it’s only because it’s their first sleepover, and he considers that a pretty big moment in their friendship. Not to mention that Hitoshi has never stayed over at a friend's house before due to not having any friends in junior high, so he tries to convince himself that it’s normal for his hands to feel clammy and his mouth to feel dry. It’s also normal for him to have spent forty minutes picking out a pair of pajamas, despite only having two pairs to choose from.
They get permission from Shouta, as well as Hitoshi’s homeroom teacher, a few days before, and, on a random Friday night (a Friday night he will probably remember for the rest of his life), Hitoshi enters the 1-A dorms with a deer-in-headlights expression on his face and a backpack filled with his pajamas, snacks, and a blanket inside. He drags his feet down the identical hallway to the one in the 1-C dorm building, only slightly comforted by the fact that he at least knows a few other students in this class like Bakugou, Kirishima, Sero, Ashido, and Miodirya. Still, it doesn’t stop the nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him that he sticks out like a sore thumb in a place like this – a space reserved for the hero students only.
He momentarily wonders if this is how Kaminari feels whenever he visits the gen-ed dorms; so out of place, before shaking his head at how stupid the thought is. Of course, Kaminari belongs. He’s probably never had to feel like an outcast before. It’s just another blaring reason as to why their friendship was doomed from the beginning – why it’s so wrong.
But, it feels right to Hitoshi, so he takes a few steps further into the 1-A dorms and turns the corner into the common area, realizing just how similar the two buildings are, and immediately freezes when he feels approximately seventeen pairs of eyes turn in his direction.
Now he really does look like a deer in headlights.
It seems like almost the entirety of class 1-A had decided to gather in their living room that night, all piled onto the two couches surrounding the television, and Hitoshi regrets ever being born as the majority of them stare at him with confused expressions.
Someone that Hitoshi has never seen before (with blonde hair and a large tail) perks up and says, “Oh – you’re that guy who almost beat Midoriya at the sports festival!”
“His name is Shinsou,” Ashido says, rolling her eyes at the boy.
Perched between Ashido and Kirishima, Kaminari picks himself up from the couch with a smile and begins making his way over. At the sight of him, Hitoshi feels almost all of the nerves drain out of his body, replaced only with a distant sense of comfortability as he takes a slightly more confident step forward.
“You here to hang out, man?” Kirishima asks.
“He’s here for me,” Kaminari says, suddenly taking hold of Hitoshi’s hand as he begins pulling him toward the elevators a ways down the hall.
“You can’t just steal him,” says Sero, sitting up in his seat on the couch to look over his shoulder at the two of them. “He’s our friend, too.”
“We’ll come downstairs and hang out with you guys later.”
Hitoshi presses his lips into a thin line to suppress a smile that threatens to make its way onto his face as Kaminari continues to pull him down the hall, not even pausing for a second to talk to his classmates. He feels a slight warmth bloom in his chest at the sound of Sero calling him their friend – even more so at the thought of them bickering over who gets to hang out with him. It’s pathetic, he knows, but it’s also a first for him, so he allows himself to soak in the feeling for a few seconds.
In junior high, people would argue over who was forced to have him on their dodgeball team, and now he has friends who want to spend time with him. It almost feels like he was isakaied into another, much nicer world.
Kaminari stamps the call button for the elevator and, as they wait, Hitoshi glances down at their still-intertwined hands, and asks, “Where’s Bakugou?”
He looks up at Kaminari’s face just in time to see the other give him a confused look.
“He wasn’t sitting with the rest of your classmates,” Hitoshi clarifies. “Where is he?”
“Oh.” Kaminari lets go of Hitoshi’s hand as the elevator doors slide open, and he can’t help but frown slightly at the loss of warmth in his palm. “He didn’t want to hang out – he said something about homework.”
Hitoshi quirks an eyebrow as they step into the elevator, his gaze wandering down as he watches Kaminari press the button for the third floor.
“Shouldn’t you be doing homework, too, then?”
“My dog ate it.”
“Sure.”
--
It turns out, sleepovers are just hanging out, but for longer.
Obvious, now that he’s thinking about it, and he’s a little embarrassed for being so stressed out only an hour ago.
Kaminari’s dorm is almost identical to how his bedroom used to look back at his house, minus the stars hanging from the roof and some of the posters on the wall, which had been switched out for some much newer, less torn ones. His PC is in the corner, his setup a perfect mirror as to how Hitoshi remembers it, and on the floor beside it is the Snorlax beanbag chair. However, something he doesn’t remember seeing before is the guitar hanging off the wall with a Spiderman sticker placed over the front.
He wonders if Kaminari can play.
Directly opposite the bed are a set of squared shelves with albums, a speaker, and a few other things that don’t seem to be organized in any particular way. A decent-sized television sits on top of the shelves, a bundle of wires peeking out from behind it, and a Nintendo Switch placed in its charging port to the left.
Said TV has an ongoing game of Mario Kart displayed on it, the two of them with a switch controller in hand as they sit with their legs hanging over the end of the bed. Kaminari had chosen to play as Waluigi, stating that he looks like Hitoshi (which he wasn’t too happy to hear) and Hitoshi as Rosalina.
They’ve been playing for the last half hour, the current score being 1-6, with Hitoshi being the obvious winner. Kaminari is definitely not happy about it, evident by his furrowed eyebrows and tongue peeking out from between his lips. He’s accused Hitoshi of cheating at least seven times now (even during the time that he won, given that it was a close call), and is on the cusp of rage quitting at any moment.
Hitoshi steals a glance at him, gaze lingering on his lips for a moment, and it causes his character on the screen to slip on a banana.
“Shit,” he mumbles beneath his breath, eyes finding the screen again.
“Fall, fall, fall,” Kaminari repeats as if chanting a spell or cursing him. “C’mon, fall.”
“Not gonna happen.”
Hitoshi’s character turns a corner a little too fast, causing him to crash straight into the barrier, and he lets out a frustrated huff as it takes him a moment to get her back on track again.
“Why’d you choose her? Rosalina sucks.”
“Wow,” Hitoshi says, “Not a man hating on a woman right now.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Kaminari says with a slight chuckle. “It must be the internalized misogyny.”
“Shit –”
Hitoshi slips on another banana and contemplates throwing his controller at the TV.
In the end, he wins while Kaminari suffers his seventh loss, resulting in the other throwing himself face-first onto the mattress.
“This game sucks,” he whines, words muffled. “I’m not playing anymore.”
Hitoshi quirks an eyebrow. “This was your idea.”
Suddenly, Kaminari sits up, looking at Hitoshi with a wide grin.
“Should we order pizza?”
“Are we allowed to order pizza?”
Kaminari shrugs. “I don’t know, but I can go and ask Iida.”
“The blue-haired one with glasses?”
“Yeah.” Kaminari nods. “He’s our class rep, and Aizawa puts him in charge whenever he’s not here.”
“Okay,” Hitoshi replies, placing his controller beside him on the mattress. “I could eat pizza.”
Hurriedly, Kaminari climbs off the bed and begins shuffling over to the door. He steps into a pair of slippers (ones that look like Big Foot’s feet), opens the door, and looks over his shoulder.
“Can you put the controllers back and turn the TV off? Thanks!”
The door shuts behind Kaminari before Hitoshi can answer, and he huffs out a breath as he picks both of their controllers up; Hitoshi’s from the bed and Kaminari’s from its spot where it had fallen on the floor. He makes his way over to the TV and sits down on the carpeted floor in front of it as he inserts the remotes into the switch. Clicking the button on the top, the device switches off, and he does the same with the button beneath the TV.
Once both are off, his gaze absentmindedly drifts down to all of the different assortments of items on the shelves, and he smiles when he notices a small Joltik plush. Hitoshi reaches forward and picks it up, turning it around in his hands, before placing it back on the shelf. He can’t help but wonder if Kaminari has had it for a while or if he had bought it after Hitoshi mentioned his resemblance to the Pokemon during their first meeting.
Hitoshi’s smile widens a little more when he glances at the next shelf and spots the photo album that Kaminari had shown him before, after going over to his house for the first time. The memory of him in that puffed-up pumpkin costume as a baby makes him chuckle, and Hitoshi picks up the album, flipping through the pages to find the one that holds that particular picture.
It really is a cute photo, he thinks once he finally finds it again. Hitoshi wonders if he has any photos like that, probably in an old album somewhere, lost in the back of his old, childhood attic.
Hitoshi flips to the next page and sees another picture of baby Kaminari, this time sitting in a car seat on a wooden table, a cupcake with pink icing placed in front of him. There’s a lit, white candle in the shape of the number 1 stuck in the middle.
Underneath, someone has written ‘Baby’s First Birthday!’.
He turns to the next page and sees a picture of a young girl this time, wearing a light pink ballet leotard and white tights. The girl has long, yellow hair, similar to Kaminari’s, and even an identical black streak going through one side. She’s standing in front of a mirror with a huge smile as she balances on one foot, and Hitoshi assumes that Kaminari must have a sister.
Gently, Hitoshi closes the album when he hears Kaminari yell “Thanks, class rep!” in the hallway, placing it back on the shelf before standing up. He sits down on the bed just as the door opens, and Kaminari walks in with his phone in hand.
“Iida said we can order pizza,” he says as he plants one knee into the mattress, eyes landing on Hitoshi. “Plain cheese?”
Hitoshi’s face contorts, completely disgusted.
--
Forty-five minutes later, he and Kaminari are sitting on the latter’s bed, an open pizza box between them on the mattress. They’d come to a mutual decision of half-cheese half-pepperoni since Kaminari claimed to “not like pepperoni” (literally impossible), and each of them currently has a silence in hand as an episode of Chastity High plays on the TV.
It’s a drama that recently came out, and Hitoshi has been looking forward to watching it for a while but never found the effort to sit down and start the eight-episode series.
As the credits roll on their current episode (episode 2), Kaminari looks at Hitoshi and asks, “What does it feel like?”
“Huh?” Hitoshi asks, taking another bite out of the slice in his hand without taking his eyes off the screen. “What does what feel like?”
“Your quirk.”
He glances to his right, eyebrows furrowed. “Like, brainwashing someone?”
Kaminari nods. “Yeah.”
Hitoshi pauses, thinking over the question, but no one answer comes to mind. Honestly, for the most part, it doesn’t feel like anything to him. He just speaks and the person does whatever he says – with some limitations, of course. He can’t yet command someone to speak or do anything that requires much thought, probably because of the lack of training he’s done with his quirk, but he’s sure that he’ll be able to do more with it in the future.
However, there is that split-second – the moment he activates his quirk, grabbing a hold of someone’s mind, fleeting but ever so overwhelming. It’s not quite something that he can put into words, not that he’s ever wanted to or tried.
“...Weird,” he finally decides, voice smooth and quiet.
“Weird?” Kaminari asks, his own eyebrow quirked now as his eyes flicker across Hitoshi’s face. “Weird how? Is it your fetish or something?”
Hitoshi huffs out a sudden, amused breath, his cheeks heating up as he shakes his head in disbelief. “No? Does your quirk turn you on?”
With a teasing smirk on his face, Kaminari responds, “It depends on the day.”
“I’m sure it does.”
Hitoshi shakes his head, dumbfounded at how the conversation even took such a turn and glances back toward the TV just in time to see the third episode beginning to play.
Before he can focus too much on it, he hears, “Can you brainwash me?”
“Why?” Hitoshi asks with a suspicious eyebrow quirked as he returns his attention to Kaminari. “You already felt it, remember? When we were training the other day.”
“That was only for a few seconds, though,” Kaminari complains, his tone a mix of whining and playful annoyance. “I hardly even felt anything because you turned it off too quickly.”
He huffs out a breath. “I don’t think it’s supposed to feel like anything, honestly.”
Kaminari suddenly shifts, moving to sit directly opposite Hitoshi, facing him as he crosses his legs and purses his lips.
“Do it again.”
Hitoshi blinks at the other, not responding for a moment, before letting out a sigh and sitting up. “Seriously?”
Kaminari nods. “Yeah. I wanna feel it for more than a few seconds.”
There’s a second of hesitation in Hitoshi’s chest, but he figures that not much could go wrong with the simple request. It isn’t like Kaminari hasn’t felt it before and, plus, they’re all alone in here, safely tucked away inside Kaminari’s dorm, just the two of them.
“Okay,” he finally agrees.
“Okay,” Kaminari repeats, nodding to himself. “What do I –”
It’s quite miraculous the way Kaminari’s sentence dies in his throat the moment Hitoshi activates his quirk. His eyes dull, the yellow fading into a sickly gray-green color, and his shoulders slowly relax until he’s practically asleep upright with his eyes still open. A feeling of euphoria mixed with a hint of dread washes over Hitoshi, almost like he’s floating on a cloud in the sky, seconds away from plunging to his death. It’s a unique feeling, one he doesn’t particularly hate now that he’s gotten used to it after all these years, but it used to terrify him as a kid.
Honestly, Hitoshi has never had the chance to see it happen so up close before. People used to make sure to not come too close after learning what his quirk is, and he tries to only ever use it if he really has to. He thinks Kaminari is the only person stupid enough, or maybe brave enough, to voluntarily have someone take over his mind like this.
Though, it isn’t like Hitoshi can read his thoughts whenever he does this. If vocally demanding someone to do something is the current extent of his powers, then there isn’t much of a risk, he supposes.
Hitoshi’s gaze flickers across Kaminari’s face, having never seen the other so relaxed before, and he huffs out an amused breath as he watches Kaminari’s bangs fall over his lifeless eyes. Wordlessly, he reaches a hand forward, gently tucks the stray strands behind his ear, and simply allows his hand to stall beside Kaminari’s face for a moment.
When Kaminari doesn’t react, he’s reminded just how dangerous his quirk can be. He could do anything to Kaminari right now, and he would be completely defenseless against Hitoshi, no matter what thoughts were racing through his mind as it happened. Losing the ability to move your own body, and still be completely aware, can be horrifying in certain situations, and he’s surprised that Kaminari even trusts him enough to allow him to do this.
The thought is both nice and terrifying to him, and Hitoshi frowns as he retracts his arm, deactivating his quirk at the same time.
Kaminari blinks rapidly as he regains his bearings, bringing his fists up to rub at his eyes.
“Woah,” he says, and he doesn’t sound even the slightest bit scared.
“Satisfied?” Hitoshi asks.
“It kinda feels like when I short-circuit myself,” says Kaminari, smiling softly. “Except, I’m not usually paralyzed when I short-circuit myself.”
“How does that feel?”
“Hmm… probably what I imagine being drunk feels like.”
“Have you ever even drank alcohol before?”
“That’s why I said probably.”
--
When it comes time to sleep, Kaminari is in the bathroom getting changed into his pajamas as Hitoshi drags one of the pillows off the bed and places it on the floor for him to use. He’d been the first to get dressed right after they finished eating, and he’s currently wearing an oversized henley and sweatpants. The blanket he’d brought with him is in a pile beside him on the floor, and he’s waiting to ask if Kaminari has a futon in his closet that he can use.
Wearing a set of Spider-Man pajamas, Kaminari quirks his eyebrow as he exits the bathroom, staring down at Hitoshi with an amused expression on his face.
“Did you do something wrong?” he asks. “Why’re you kneeling on the floor?”
Hitoshi glances down at himself, rolls his eyes, and says, “This is where I’m sleeping, isn’t it?”
Kaminari flicks the light off, strolls over to the bed, and crawls over the mattress to where the pillows are. “I mean, if you want to, but I’d rather you sleep up here with me.”
A feeling of warmth grows up the back of Hitoshi’s neck, dusting over the tips of his ears, and he nods silently as he pushes himself to stand. Sitting down on the mattress, he supposes that it’s normal for two guys to sleep in the same bed during a sleepover. If he was a girl, then it would be weird… but since they’re both men, there’s no reason not to.
But, if it’s so normal, then why does Hitoshi feel so nervous about it?
He picks his blanket and the pillow up off the floor, places them down on the bed, and glances over his shoulder at Kaminari to observe his mannerisms. The other is rearranging his pillows, placing them in certain spots on the mattress with a concentrated expression on his face; not at all bothered about the fact that they’re going to be sleeping beside each other for the next few hours.
Why would he? Hitoshi is the weird one here, feeling anxious over sharing a bed with a dude. Kaminari is probably straight, too, meaning he probably hadn’t even considered the thoughts currently running through Hitoshi’s mind right now.
Letting out a quiet breath, Hitoshi lies down after Kaminari finally does, staring up at the ceiling as he tries to stop himself from rolling over the edge of the bed. Laying too close to him would probably make Kaminari uncomfortable –
“So, who’s gonna be little spoon and who’s gonna be big spoon?”
“Huh?” Hitoshi asks, maybe a little too loudly as he turns his head to look at Kaminari.
Staring back at him with an amused smile, Kaminari responds, “We need to huddle together for warmth, bro.”
“We have blankets.”
“We also have each other,” Kaminari replies with a playful wink.
Huffing out a breath, Hitoshi shakes his head in mild disbelief. At first, he doesn’t take Kaminari’s words seriously – teasing him like this seems to be second nature for the other, and so he’s slowly adjusting to not taking whatever Kaminari says as 100% genuine. That is, until Kaminari turns onto his side, his back facing Hitoshi.
“I’ll be little spoon, then,” he says, shifting backward, toward Hitoshi. “Wouldn’t want to crack your fragile masculinity.”
He stares silently at the back of Kaminari’s head for a moment, unmoving, trying to figure out what it is that Kaminari wants him to do right now. He’s joking – it’s obviously a joke. There’s no way he’s seriously expecting Hitoshi to –
Kaminari shifts once more, reaching behind himself to grab one of Hitoshi’s arms and gently but forcefully drag it over himself. His position changes so suddenly that it takes a moment for his brain to comprehend that he went from lying on his back to being on his side, one of his arms draped over Kaminari’s waist as he spoons the other boy.
He wonders if Kaminari can hear how his heart starts beating against his ribcage. It wouldn’t surprise him, given how Hitoshi can hear it in his own ears, loud as day.
Holding his breath, Hitoshi’s mind both begins to race and stall at the same time, void of anything yet so full of everything all at once. He can feel Kaminari’s back pressed against his chest and the dip of his waist beneath his arm. The position is so intimate, yet the way Kaminari’s shoulders rise and fall with each calm breath tells him that it shouldn’t be anything at all.
Still, it should be no surprise when he feels all of the blood drain from the upper half of his body and quickly head down south.
Of all the times in the world that Hitoshi could get a hard-on, this one might be the worst of all, when his body is currently pressed against that of his first and only best friend. The timing is almost comical, really, but he doesn’t feel like laughing as he discreetly tries to shift back in an attempt to make the boner growing in his pants less noticeable to the innocent party lying in front of him.
Hitoshi swears that, up until that moment, his thoughts had been as pure as they ever have been. He means, he doesn’t have feelings for Kaminari (that he’s sure of), so the reaction that his body is having right now must be because of divine intervention or something like that.
100, 99, 98, 97, he counts silently in his head, attempting to distract himself from the subconscious thoughts invading the back of his mind. And, when that doesn’t work, it’s almost as if fight or flight kicks in because, when Kaminari begins to move closer to him, Hitoshi suddenly sits up and begins climbing out of bed.
“...Where’re you going?” Kaminari’s tired and confused voice asks as he too sits up, the other apparently being one of those people who can fall asleep almost as soon as their head hits the pillow.
“I need to piss,” Hitoshi replies, quickly heading toward Kaminari’s bathroom like his life depends on it (it just might).
Without waiting for a response from Kaminari, Hitoshi enters the bathroom and lets out a shaky breath as the door clicks shut behind him. He closes his eyes for a beat, his back resting against the door as he attempts to steady his racing heart, before sparing a glance down at his sweats.
The bulge was definitely noticeable, and he’d be surprised if Kaminari hadn’t noticed it either pressed against him or when Hitoshi stood up and practically ran to the bathroom. The embarrassment is mortifying, and all Hitoshi wants to do at that moment is curl up into a ball and die right then and there.
Instead, he does one lame glance around Kaminari’s bathroom (glossing over the fact that he has a large collection of rubber ducks… for now) before taking a few steps toward the toilet. He pulls both the lid and seat up, takes a deep, self-loathing breath when he realizes what he’s about to do in his best friend’s bathroom, and nudges his sweats down his thighs before reaching a hand into his boxers.
When he exits the bathroom only ten minutes later, reentering the dark bedroom, Kaminari’s limbs are spread out starfish-style across the mattress as he sleeps like a rock. Hitoshi is only just able to push down the shame in his stomach to huff out an amused breath at the sight before setting up his makeshift bed on the floor once more.
***
Katsuki is lying on the carpeted floor, blankly staring up at the ceiling when the buzz of his phone breaks the carefully curated silence of his dorm, sending a slight jolt up his arm from its place in his palm. His eyes burn as he lifts the device up to his face and turns the screen on, the new notification from Kirishima glaring down at him.
Kirishima (12:21am): You sure you don’t wanna join us??
It feels more like a nagging demand than a question, and Katsuki lets his eyes fall closed as he places the device on his chest, ignoring the second and third buzz as he exhales a large, heavy breath. They had invited him to join them earlier, too, but the idea of being surrounded by all of his classmates for even a second sent a wave of irritation through him for reasons he couldn’t even start to describe.
Maybe it’s the added stress of his remedial classes, but all Katsuki wants to do recently is disappear completely. He’s more exhausted than usual, more annoyed at everything that his friends do and say, and Katsuki just wants it all to stop already.
It’s kind of ridiculous, at his point; struggling to fall asleep at his grown age.
The bottle of vodka he had taken from Yamada’s office back home is sitting beside him on the carpet, further drained of at least a few mouthfuls worth of alcohol after the urge to drown his relentless thoughts with something wouldn’t stop taunting him. Not even the idea of the smell lingering, leading to him getting expelled from school, could turn him away from having a few swigs this time.
Now, he feels almost delirious as he lies there, soaking in a puddle of his own pathetic, self-pitying thoughts, and he feels just about desperate enough to do anything at this point. Katsuki has even been battling with the idea of calling Dr. Choi’s personal number, given to him in case of emergencies, and spilling about every single thought going around in his head because there must be some sort of medication his therapist can prescribe that can knock him out for a few hours of peaceful, dreamless sleep.
Silently, he sits up, causing his phone to fall off his chest and onto the floor. Katsuki grabs it and the bottle of vodka as he shuffles backward, his back now pressed up against his bedframe as he sniffles quietly. His room lights are on, burning his exhausted eyes because even the mere thought of sitting alone in his room with them off seems terrifying.
And, he doesn’t want to admit that being alone is the problem. He doesn’t want to acknowledge that the only times he’s actually been able to fall asleep these past few weeks is because he’s had someone by his side, be it an entire classroom of people or just one person. Because that makes him feel even more pathetic than he already does.
Katsuki pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them, holding them there as he lets his eyes fall closed. The mere action of thinking has been more of a privilege these days; he’s struggling to pay attention in class and has been making more mistakes in his remedial classes than he can count with only two hands.
At this rate, he’s going to fail and, without a license, have to give up on becoming a hero.
That thought alone is enough to have him reaching for his phone from the spot he had placed it on the carper, bringing the device up to his face as he allows it to unlock, and immediately navigates over to his contact list. He scrolls down to the letter D, clicks on Dr. Choi’s number, and pauses with his thumb hanging just over the call button.
What would he even say?
Hey, I can’t sleep because I’ve been having nightmares about what my dad did to me when I was a kid, can you give me drugs, please? It sounds absurd, even to him, and he knows for a fact that Dr. Choi will have question after question, and will probably even reschedule their next appointment for tomorrow morning to talk about it.
But, Katsuki can’t wait until tomorrow morning. He feels sick with exhaustion and, if he had anything to eat these past couple of days, he probably would have already thrown it up by now. He needs a solution at this very moment that doesn’t include drinking himself to sleep or smoking weed until it makes him tired enough to not care because the former doesn’t seem to be working and Shinsou is currently having a ‘sleepover’ with Kaminari.
With his easiest, short-term solution unavailable at the moment, he wonders if hitting his head against the wall until he gets a concussion and passes out would suffice just for the night, but scraps that one, too, when he realizes that most of his classmates would hear that and come running.
With his thumb still hovering over the call button on Dr. Choi’s contact, Katsuki drags his bottom lip between his teeth as another, extremely short-term solution passes through his mind. It’s so absurd that he wants to burst out into laughter as soon as he thinks of it, but can’t find the energy to do even that much.
After another moment of contemplation and considering suicide, Katsuki finally decides that he can recover his pride after he’s had some proper sleep, and closes his contacts. Instead, he navigates over to the Line app and finds the group chat that Kirishima had added him to after basically coercing Katsuki’s number out of him.
He clicks on it and involuntarily reads the most recent few messages.
Tokoyami (11:02pm): I have a darkness brewing inside me…
Kaminari (11:04pm): maybe its that frijoles burrito you had last night idk
Kirishima (11:04pm): What kind of friends get Frijoles and don’t invite me? Man u guys are traitors
Kaminari (11:05pm): the kind that fucks ur mom
Kirishima (11:05pm): I’m telling my mom you said that fucker
Kirishima (11:05pm): Sending her a ss rn
Kirishima (11:05pm): Ur done.
Kaminari (11:05pm): NO PLS
Suddenly, Katsuki remembers exactly why he had muted this group chat in the first place. He sighs and navigates his way over to the list of members, silently scrolling through them until he gets to the letter T. At the top is Todoroki’s account and, after a moment of hesitation, Katsuki clicks on it.
He and Todoroki have never messaged before – they’ve never had a reason to. Katsuki feels a little pathetic as his fingers drift across the keyboard as he types out his text and deletes it a few times before finally letting himself press send.
Bakugou (01:12am): u awake?
It’s short and simple; straight to the point. Almost immediately, the small ‘read’ message pups up beside his text to show that Todoroki has seen his message, which he supposes already answers his question. Before he can get a response, Katsuki swipes out of their conversation just as Todoroki’s reply comes through, not wanting it to seem like he was waiting for the other’s response.
After a few minutes have passed, he clicks on it once more.
Todoroki (01:12am): Yes.
Katsuki types out his reply and hesitates with his thumb hovering over the send button. If he does this, it’ll almost be like he’s admitting defeat but, after deciding that he’ll just blame it on the alcohol in his system later on, he bites down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood as he presses send.
Bakugou (01:16am): come to my dorm