The Thunderbolt

by lightswitchthief

Summary:

“Did I say anything to you that stuck out last night?” Kaminari said, climbing to his feet with the UA blanket hanging from his shoulders like a bright blue and red cape.

Jirou stopped for a second, tilting her head to the side. She remembered the usual ‘wheys’, the usual falling on flat surfaces, but mostly, Jirou remembered what Kaminari whispered to himself before falling asleep on the ground while she waited on his bed for him to snap out of it. After throwing him the pillow she’d been leaning against, she watched him pull it close to himself and mumble.

Kyouka….

And imperceptible to normal human ears, but not beyond hers:

…...I love you.

Kaminari confesses to Jirou in his sleep on the last weekend before break starts, throwing everyone off as they prepare for the summer. The fic will be a slow burn, following the two of them throughout the summer as things go awry.

Updates Biweekly

Chapter 1: The Basic Principals of Sleep Talking

“Is it time to go to the mattresses?”

Jirou stared at Kaminari in the way that only she could. It was not the eye-roll she reserved for Iida’s stringent screaming, nor was it the angry glare she saved for people who took too long to buy coffee in the mornings. It was something unique to him. It made him feel special, warm, even, that someone would save a look just for a him. It was a look that said, “Kaminari, the words that have somehow managed to struggle past your brain and tongue have both managed to perplex and irritate me, but I’m still going to stay in this conversation so that I can tell you that.”

“What in the goddamn hell are you talking about, Kam? Can we save that for another morning?” she groaned, exasperated.

Jirou was dressed in a pair of familiar sweatpants and an even more familiar baggy band t-shirt, leaning her head back against the wall and letting her amethyst hair fall in a curtain behind her at the foot of Kaminari’s bed. Kaminari, for reasons only known to Kaminari and Kaminari alone, was lying on the ground parallel to the foot of his bed, staring up at the irritated woman above him. He was, as per usual for a morning, shirtless and bleary eyed, silently hating the sun for having the audacity to be so goddamn bright. Kaminari was covered in a UA branded blanket and had stretched out on the most comfortable part of his dorm floor.

“I was enjoying the peace and quiet before Bakugou comes to kill us both and you just had to go and ruin it by talking,” she grumbled.

Jirou leaned forward from the wall, stretching out her arms and back with an audible pop. The previous night, after trying to experiment with shaping his lightning into a weapon during the last combat exercise of the semester, Kaminari had deep-fried his brain once more. However, the additional strain of attempting to have a controlled overload has proved to intensify the outage to a level that neither Jirou nor Kaminari had ever experienced. As a result, Jirou had been forced to carry along her companion for the better part of 6 hours. During said 6 hour period, Kaminari had apparently been determined to bring his friendships down in flames.

“I can’t believe I asked Tsu if she knew Kermit the Frog,” Kaminari moaned, forearm placed strategically over his eyes to stop that pesky sunlight from reaching them.

Jirou giggled, which sent a jolt of warmth and a tickling sensation through his body.

“I don’t think ask really captures screaming ‘WHERE KERMIT’ at her over and over again,” she teased, sunlight catching her indigo hair and making it shine. Kaminari lowered his arm slightly so that he could catch a quick glimpse of her in the early morning light.

Her teeth widened into a pearly grin.

“The real kicker was when you kept petting Bakugou’s hair and calling him ‘Sparky!’ until he got angry and you ran away crying.”

“Why didn’t you stop me!?”

Jirou raised an eyebrow at Kaminari.

“Would you have stopped me?”

Kaminari stopped and seriously pondered the question, as it drifted through his sleep-addled mind.

“That’s not important.”

Jirou threw her head back and laughed. She laughed like a song, high and clear as it reverberated through his dorm room and settled somewhere next to his heart.

Kaminari had been nursing a crush on Jirou from the day she grabbed a sword and kicked him in the back. He remembered the first day he had ever seen her in action, bringing down a street full of robots the size of houses together as she blasted sonic waves and he brought the literal shock and awe to that corner of the campus. When they had first gotten to class together, he was initially more preoccupied with Yaomomo’s “contributions to society” as it were, but when their backs were to the wall at the USJ, it had been Jirou that had spurned him into action. Jirou, that had tried to talk down a villain holding him hostage, Jirou that had wielded a sword like a brush and painted the landside red, and Jirou that had rescued him after he rescued her. And that afternoon, it was Jirou that had taken him to the nurse and waited for him to return to normal.

She was tough, spunky, funny, and took shit from absolutely no one. He loved it. The kick made him start to fall, but it had been the time they had spent together that had made Kaminari fall head over heels for this wonderful valkyrie of a woman. She was his best friend, his confidant, and his partner-in-crime. All those hours bantering over coffee, all those days spent listening to music, the time they hustled the arcade for all the stuffed animals they could ever want, all of it would be lost because Kaminari couldn’t stop himself from wanting to screw the person he felt closest to. Not to mention, why would she ever love some asshole like him? Kaminari was sure she’d want some indie guy that would write her poetry and use words like ‘Intersectionality’ or ‘loquacious’ and have, like, three cats. In the meantime, then, he would just do what he always did: chase hookups with random girls and then make excuses and cancel when he realized that they just weren’t Jirou. It was sad to think about, but Kaminari tried his best not to think most days anyway.

“What?” Jirou asked quizzically, peering down at Kaminari.

“Why are you staring at me? Stop looking so sad, dumbass. It makes me worry” Jirou said, with a smile that stopped somewhere between concerned and happy.

Kaminari shrugged.

“Just thinking, dude.”

“About?”

“Stuff.”

“Ah yes. I, too love stuff. I’m also big on people, places, and things. What’s wrong, man?” Jirou’s face settled firmly on concerned this time.

“Did I say anything to you that stuck out last night?” Kaminari said, climbing to his feet with the UA blanket hanging from his shoulders like a bright blue and red cape.

Jirou stopped for a second, tilting her head to the side. She remembered the usual ‘wheys’, the usual falling on flat surfaces, but mostly, Jirou remembered what Kaminari whispered to himself before falling asleep on the ground while she waited on his bed for him to snap out of it. After throwing him the pillow she’d been leaning against, she watched him pull it close to himself and mumble.

Kyouka….

And imperceptible to normal human ears, but not beyond hers:

"I love you", followed by a series of mumbles.

And with that, he promptly fell asleep, leaving her to wallow in her feelings and all things Kaminari. She loved being in his room. The posters, the sound system, the tv, the christmas lights hanging year round, all of it was so genuinely and unapologetically him. Except for the banana yellow crocs. She hated those with a burning, fiery passion. On his shelf laid their plush spoils of victory over an irate arcade owner. On his desk sat her Secret Santa gift to him, a wind-up Pikachu that walked while saying its name at increasingly high volumes to the point of being ear-rapingly loud. Class-1A’s first class picture sat next to a haphazard pile of notebooks and textbooks. A pair of white headphones sat precariously atop the pile, the cord dangling onto the floor. Jirou had stared at that desk and that wall for hours trying to pass out on his bed. She had even changed into a shirt of his and a pair of his sweatpants to be more comfortable, but nothing had worked.
Jirou knew that Kaminari didn’t love her. It hurt to think that, sure, but the truth was that love wasn’t for her. To love someone meant to think they were wonderful and perfect and kind and Jirou knew that she not only wasn’t any of those things, she especially wasn’t to Kaminari. They were friends, sure, but she was angry and cynical and irritable and he was happy and carefree and silly. He was water and she was fire. They made good friends, but Kaminari could never date her. He was a ‘free spirit’ or whatever, and the last thing he needed was some bitter and soulless person dragging him down to her awful level. Idly, Jirou appreciated the amount of teenage melodrama coursing through her mind, but pressed on nonetheless. More than anything though, Jirou was Kaminari’s closest female friend and this was probably just Kaminari finally going after a girl that knew him already. Not to mention, the idea that someone might genuinely think that she ‘’wasn’t like other girls’ made her want to vomit right onto Kaminari who was still standing in front-of-her-and-oh-good-god-it-had-already-been-like-30-seconds-and-she-hadn’t-said-anything--

“Wow, it was that bad?! What was it!?” Kaminari’s eyes went wide at her expression.

Jirou forced out an awkward chuckle and moved her gaze away from his eyes, landing instead on a very interesting smudge on the wall behind him.

“It’s not that. I just realized exactly how much packing I still have to do. I didn’t even think about it before I dozed off,” she said, her face hardening into a grimace.

Kaminari blushed bright red.

“Jeez, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you spent the night here.”

Jirou forced out yet another awkward chuckle and further averted her gaze away from Kaminari, silently praying he was too oblivious to notice.

“Well, I didn’t want you to wake up in the middle of the night and crack your head open without me being there to record it.”

Kaminari grinned that stupid, lazy, wide grin that she loved, despite, or maybe even because of, how much it made him look like a dork.

“You’re incorrigible.”

This time, Jirou didn’t have to pretend to laugh. Kaminari made it easy.

“Kaminari Denki, life’s way too short for you to pretend that you know what that word means. I’m gonna go shower and clean up. I’ll see you later.” She flicked him on the nose and climbed off of the bed as the UA blanket dropped from his shoulders, exposing his chest and abs in the early morning glow. In spite of herself, Jirou let her gaze linger a little longer than she should.

Kaminari recoiled from the flick but before he could respond with sarcasm in kind, Jirou was already out of the door. As he watched her leave, an old proverb his father once imparted to him rang through his head. “Hate to see her go, but love to watch her leave.” Kaminari, to his credit, didn’t stare. Well, he didn’t stare long enough for it to be weird. Okay, it was long enough to be a little weird.

 

Kaminari opened his phone to text Jirou, if only to not let her have the last word.

deepfriedkaminari: imma need that shirt back and btw the mattresses thing is from the godfather

deepestdope: I said another morning

deepfriedkaminari: tbh i think sparky would of killed us by now so we good

deepestdope: would’ve

deepfriedkaminari: wut

deepestdope: it’s short for would have, so it’s ‘would’ve’

deepfriedkaminari: but then why does it sound the same??

deepestdope: because some words just sound the same, dumbass. Like your and you’re. They’re called homophones.

deepfriedkaminari: isnt that someone who hates gay people

deepestdope: are you done?

deepfriedkaminari: never

deepfriedkaminari: we should watch the godfather sometime if u havent seen it

deepestdope: if I wanted to watch old Italian dudes scream at each other I’d move to New Jersey.

deepfriedkaminari: ill make that nutella popcorn thing

deepestdope: fine

deepfriedkaminari: when?

deepestdope: idk, I got loads of packing to get through first and Yaomomo’s throwing another lunchtime tea thing today that I’m going to.

deepfriedkaminari: maybe watch it over break then????

deepestdope: I guess, dude.

deepfriedkaminari: also i still think its bullshit that i cant come to that

deepestdope: Do you really want to drink tea and listen to Mina rant about Kirishima’s abs?

deepfriedkaminari: its about the principal of it

deepestdope: Uh huh. I’ll ttyl, I gotta get to packing.

deepfriedkaminari: laters

deepestdope: It’s ‘principle’ and also ‘laters’???

deepfriedkaminari: pls have mercy

Jirou did not have to pack. Well, technically she did, but she’d be damned if she let a deadline ever make her do something. Jirou, instead, had to turn to the one person she could trust in all matters; her friend, Yaomomo. Yaomomo, as per usual for 10 o’clock on a Saturday morning, was most likely hard at work on something. Jirou knocked on the door to her dorm, shaking the impressively large floral arrangement that Yaomomo had taped to it. Flower petals fell from the arrangement into Yaomomo’s inbox, the purpose of which escaped Jirou, given that no UA student worth their tech addiction would ever leave a handwritten note.

“Come in!” Yaomomo called. Jirou breathed deeply and entered, preparing herself for Yaomomo’s room. Yaomomo had taken the advice of Present Mic to make their dorms “their homes away from home” alarmingly literally, and as a result, walking inside of the room felt as though one had careened out of a dorm and into a very lost bedroom from a mansion. There were long red curtains that covered the window, a thick expensive rug on the floor, and, ceiling be damned, a canopy bed. Yaomomo was sitting cross-legged on her bed, reading from a book about something complicated and deeply scientific, Jirou assumed.

“Jirou! How are you?! How was last night with Kaminari?! I’m surprised you’re still not with him. I assumed he’d cook breakfast for you afterwards.” Her brow furrowed.

“Of course, I’m still happy for the two of you because it is about damn time, but that does cast some of Kaminari’s gentleman-ness into doubt, I suppose. Can you doubt something you assumed didn’t exist?”

Yaomomo seemed to speak more to herself than anyone else. Jirou stared blankly at her best friend, before blood flushed to her cheeks and the realization hit her like a bus. Suddenly, Jirou realized how the rest of the world would have seen her going to back to Kaminari’s dorm for the night, only leaving to go to the bathroom, and spending the entire night in his clothes which she was still wearing.

“Yaomomo, nothing happened at all. He was an idiot all night and then slept on the floor--and what the hell do you mean it’s about damn time?” Jirou sputtered, red-faced and acutely aware of how she must look to her best friend.

Yaomomo, in turn, turned bright red.

“Oh, Jirou, I’m so sorry, I thought you two had gotten together last night and made love. Over the past year you two have obviously gotten very close and-”

Jirou’s nose turned up.

“Yaomomo, people like you make love. I think I’m stuck somewhere in between ‘screwing’ and ‘doing the dirty.’ And also, ew.”

Yaomomo smiled, earnestly.

“That’s not true! I assumed that I could never make love until I read Mindful Sex For Young Heroines, but when--”

Jirou turned pale white.

“Yaomomo, if you value our friendship at all, you will stop right there.”

Yaomomo smiled apologetically, but then frowned.

“So then what happened? Why are you here so early?”

Jirou sighed, before breathing in and realizing how much she smelled like Kaminari. Shit. The shirt smelled faintly rain and mint, and oddly enough Jirou didn’t hate it. Not entirely, anyway.

“Recovery Girl was wrong. The dumbass was out of commission for six hours instead of three, but that’s not really important. Yaomomo, last night he whispered that he loved me before falling asleep and I have no idea what I’m going to do. Nothing happened between us and Kaminari doesn’t remember anything. I barely slept because I spent all night overthinking it and I thought changing into more comfortable clothes would help and that just made it worse-- ”

Yaomomo smiled and opened her mouth to speak, but Jirou continued, cutting her off before she could start.

“And I know he doesn’t actually love me because who in the right mind would ever like me, much less fucking love me or even fucking care at all about me--”

Yaomomo pulled Jirou into a tight hug, burying her face in the crook of Yaomomo’s shoulder. Yaomomo smelled like cinnamon and--and smoke?

“I’m gonna make some tea. And then we’re going to talk, okay? You’re exhausted and overwhelmed.”

“You put the ‘Mom’ in ‘Yaomomo,’ you know that, right?” Jirou said, muffled by Yaomomo’s hug and Jirou could feel Yaomomo smile, despite the pun.

“That’s terrible, Jirou. But thank you.”

Chapter 2: Drinks, Social Events, and Feelings of Inadequacy

Kaminari Denki loved food. If he could date food, he was confident he would. He would spend time with food and continue to support food’s music career in their spare time, whenever him and food weren’t doing hero work together, if only so that he could hear food sing more. Kaminari shook his head quickly, to dispel any additional confusing metaphors. With a pounding headache, he had dug through the dorm refrigerator for the ingredients he had bought earlier during the week. Eggs, bell peppers, cheese, and sausage. Perfect for his Saturday morning omelette.

 

As Kaminari diced the peppers and threw the breakfast sausage into the microwave, he drifted away in thought. Very few things made sense to Kaminari like food did. Sure, there were numbers and fixed amounts of things that you should have, but he loved tweaking recipes and creating his own new foods and going off the beaten path. It meant following what felt good and what felt right, not necessarily just what was written down. Kaminari had picked up his cooking talents from his mother, a short, fiery titan of a woman who insisted that her son should know how to cook and clean so “as not to be entirely useless when he found some poor woman he wanted to impress.” Kaminari had resisted initially, but the promise of good food and something to charm girls with quickly won him over. He wasn’t incredible, as he had really only started cooking right before UA opened the dorms, but he could manage.  Kaminari’s father, a burly man with thick blonde beard and cropped close-cut blonde hair, had taken his son aside and explained to him the way men in the Kaminari family handled relationships as his respective contribution.

 

“Throughout your life you’ll find women who will be able to kick your ass, and you’ll love it. They’ll think you’re an idiot, and they’ll love it. By the end of it, you’ll make them laugh when they don’t want to, and they’ll push you to be better when you don’t want to. It happened to me, it happened to my brothers, it happened to your grandfather, and it will happen to you,” he explained with a lazy grin.

 

“Or…” he paused for dramatic effect. His dad’s mischievous grin was more than familiar to Kaminari. He figured it had to be genetic.

 

“Or you’ll get extra lucky and die alone.”

 

“Thanks, Dad.”

 

“Any time.”

 

Kaminari was more angry at how right he was than anything else. Kaminari was not and would never be the smartest person in any given room on any particular day, even if said room was empty save for Kaminari. And he was okay with that. But somehow, for whatever reason, he couldn’t help but want to be better for Jirou. Better didn’t mean smarter or handsomer or whatever, better just meant, well, better . But truth be told, it didn’t matter. Kaminari knew that wasn’t who Jirou was looking for. He was content to just be by her side, regardless.

“Dammit, Dad,” Kaminari mumbled, and turned around, jumping in surprise as he was now face to face with Tokoyami, who stared at him intently.    

 

“Good...morning?” he asked, trying to gauge the emotions of the stoic birdman. Tokoyami was unmoved, and continued to stare.

 

“Where is Jirou? I assumed you would be cooking for the both of you.”

 

Kaminari turned back to the stove, cracking the first egg on the counter and dropping it into the pan after coating the pan with butter. He briefly felt a pang of guilt for eating eggs in front of Tokoyami, before wondering if that was racist or something.

 

“Nah dude. She said she had to go pack or whatever. She left before I could even get my shirt back.”

 

Tokoyami only grunted in response, settling into a chair at their dining table, his eyes not leaving Kaminari. He didn’t sit, as much as he perched in place.  Kaminari was far too absorbed in the meal preparations to pick up on anything besides how fresh his bell peppers still were. Tokoyami waited for Kaminari to say something, but upon seeing his preoccupation with his food, Tokoyami took in a deep breath, and spoke.

 

“I think it is excellent that, even during times of war, feelings still run rampant. That is, to me, why we still fight. Not necessarily for victory, but for hope and love. There will always be another battle, but there will not always be another person to share the beauty of life with.”

 

Kaminari absentmindedly chewed on a raw bell pepper chunk, staring off into space. Man, he loved peppers.

 

“Yeah, I get you, dude. Friendships are super important. With all the villain stuff, we gotta stick together,” he said, gulping as he swallowed the pepper chunk and turned to face Tokoyami, seated at the table directly behind him.

 

Tokoyami stared at Kaminari for a long, long time. Kaminari really did like Tokoyami, but he felt like they had a lot of trouble really getting along. Tokoyami was all about darkness and brooding and angst and Kaminari liked the sun and beaches and dogs. Jirou was a bit more into darkness and all that stuff, but Kaminari felt like they balanced each other out, whereas with Tokoyami, everything was just plain weird.

 

“Did you not tell Jirou how you feel last night?” Tokoyami’s gaze was steel.

 

Kaminari made a noise somewhere in between a cat hacking up a hairball and a drain being unclogged as the pepper went into the back of his throat and his eyes bugged out of his head. In an instant, the Dark Shadow was behind Kaminari and gave him a swift chop to the back, making him cough up the pepper. Tokoyami sipped his coffee, unperturbed.

 

“H-how did you know how I feel about her? Did you tell anyone else? Did you tell her ?!”

 

Tokoyami silently observed the coughing, spitting, terrified young man and cracked a rare grin.

 

“Everyone in our class knows it. Everyone in Class 1B knows it. Kaminari, the teachers know about it. Why do you think Aisawa always pairs you two up? It’s not especially hard to tell who you really want when you keep cancelling dates with girls to spend more time with Jirou.”

 

Kaminari turned appropriately pale.

 

“W-was it that obvious? I thought I was being really sly about it.”

 

Tokoyami sighed and shook his head.

 

“Perhaps if you weren’t so obvious, we would have had more trouble with our detective work. Though, that would have meant we would have also lost out on the bet.”

 

Any remaining color completely drained from Kaminari’s face, leaving it somewhere between eggshell white and Wonder Bread.

 

“ Bet?” he squeaked.

 

Tokoyami was as deadpan as ever.

 

“We have a betting pool. Kirishima, Tsuyu, Sero, Midoriya and Uraraka are already out. Mina, Todoroki, and I are still in. Well, I was, anyway. I bet this weekend, before break starts, but alas, if you did not get together last night, it seems the moment has passed.”

 

Kaminari felt like he had destroyed his brain for the second time in 24 hours. Everyone knows! Everyone knows? Everyone knows. In the midst of his mental blue screen of death, two thoughts drifted across the surface of his mind. One, if everyone knew how he felt, then he had absolutely nothing to lose by asking for advice and help. Two, if everyone already assumed it was going to happen, then that meant that his classmates thought that there was a chance that Jirou would say yes . So, all in all, it could be a lot worse. Kaminari did what came naturally to him, and attempted to cover everything up so as not to look like an idiot, despite the damage that had already been done. He also filed away the mental image of his classmates huddled around a table gambling as something to be laughed at later, and possibly shared with Jirou.

 

Tokoyami continued, seemingly oblivious to the litany of epiphanies Kaminari had just been slapped with.

 

“Obviously, we could not get Iida involved because he is, after all, Iida. Bakugou didn’t care. Yaomomo would’ve told either you or Jirou--”

 

“Yeah, okay, got it, whatever. Do you think that Jirou likes me back?”

 

Tokoyami looked positively stunned.

 

“Yes, of course. Our entire bet is built on you two getting together. It was a matter of when, not a matter of if.”

 

Kaminari’s stomach did somersaults. It felt like electricity was running up and down his entire body, energizing him. He could feel his excitement and happiness in every single stupid fiber of his being. She liked him. She fucking liked him. He hadn’t fucked it up. She didn’t want some weird pretentious dickhead! She wanted him, for all of his stupidity and goofy nonsense and stupid flirty crap. She wanted him, she liked him, and he had a chance. He could plan for this, hell, with some help, he could do this. Maybe.

 

In a haze, Kaminari looked at Tokoyami and beamed with happiness. Tokoyami stared back, bemused.

 

“Tokoyami, you are a gem of a bird person.”

 

Kaminari saw shock flash across Tokoyami’s face and instantly realized his mistake and that he had exactly half a second before Tokoyami’s anger overcame his shock. Kaminari realized only one option remained: completely bowl over his social anxiety and hope that he forgets his anger in his confusion.

 

Kaminari lurched across the tabletop and embraced Tokoyami in a brotherly hug, hugging him tight despite the table currently digging into his stomach.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m in shock. I’ll never forget this, thank you.”

 

He could feel Tokoyami’s rage simmer over and cool down into simple discomfort as he half-heartedly pat Kaminari on the back.

 

“Of course. I don’t mean to ruin the moment, but your breakfast seems to be on fire.”

 

“OH SHIT!”

 

--------------------------------------------------------

 

Yaomomo and Jirou sat next to one another on the floor of Yaomomo’s dorm, the tea tray in front of them and the room filled with the smell of fresh-brewed tea. Yaomomo daintily poured her tea into a cup that cost more than anything that Jirou owned while Jirou filled up an All-Might coffee mug with the warm, amber liquid. Yaomomo had, at some point, decided that tea was the end-all-be-all for drinks, social events and coping with feelings of inadequacy and as such, it was a fixture of Yaomomo’s dorm. Jirou was less than convinced, but she recognized how important it was to Yaomomo and tolerated it.

 

“I can’t really see myself with Kaminari, Yaomomo.”

Jirou concentrated very hard on spooning sugar into her cup and staring straight forward so that she wouldn’t have to meet Yaomomo’s eyes.

 

“I can’t see myself with anyone.  I know me best and I hate me. I feel like I bring the people around me down to whatever stupid sad level I’m at.”

 

Yaomomo gave a sad smile and took a long sip from her tea cup. When the cup came down, the sad smile was still there.

 

“I really don’t think that’s true. You might not be overly social or peppy, but that doesn’t mean you’re some oppressively sad or miserable person. Jirou, you have friends because we enjoy spending time with you.”

 

Jirou’s shoulders fell and she hugged her knees to her chest, which sent another confusing gust of Kaminari past her nose.

 

“It’s just...I know that. When you say it, it makes sense. I know it does, it’s just that I don’t feel like it’s true no matter how much it makes sense. And I know that’s stupid and teenagery and weird, but I’m not a happy person, Yaomomo. I don’t want to drag anyone else down with me.”

 

Her eyes stayed fixated on her mug, sitting on the tray and the grinning All Might on the front of it. Suddenly, for whatever reason, All Might and the rest of the world became very blurry and her face felt hot.

 

“I don’t want him to hate me. Or you, or anyone else.” she said softly.

Yaomomo threw her arm over Jirou’s shoulders and Jirou rested her head on Yaomomo’s shoulder.

 

“We could never. And if he does, I’ll kill him,” she said simply.

 

Jirou gave a watery chuckle and took in a deep breath, steadying herself.

 

“God, could you imagine the service? Hell, the tombstone?”

Yaomomo rolled her eyes with such sass that Jirou felt a great deal of pride well up in her chest.

 

“Kirishima would be beside himself. What would Kaminari’s tombstone even say?”

 

Jirou laughed, real and genuine this time, without any pesky tears in the way.

 

“He wants it to say ‘Denki Kaminari: He Died as He Lived: Handsome and Screaming.’”

 

Yaomomo’s eyes opened wide as she turned and looked at Jirou, her head no longer on Yaomomo’s shoulder.

 

“Why on earth do you know that?”

 

Jirou took a long swig from her beautifully obnoxious mug before answering with a small grin.

 

“He told me, ‘When you’re friends with Bakugou, it pays to be prepared.’”

 

Yaomomo opened her mouth for a moment, before shrugging.

 

“He is smarter than he looks.”

 

Jirou giggled in spite of herself, rolling her eyes and enjoying the warm feeling of tea coursing through her body.

 

“He really isn’t.”

 

Yaomomo laughed softly and gave Jirou a knowing look. Jirou got to her feet in front of Yaomomo, letting out a sigh as she did.

 

“I can’t deal with relationships or teenage drama on top of my own stuff. This...this hasn’t changed anything. It’s just brought up things I was already worrying about, deep down,” Jirou said, leaning up against the ridiculous canopy bed.

 

The bed creaked slightly.

 

“I-I’m sorry for almost breaking down. I’m running on an hour of sleep and I’m stressed about going home and the Kaminari thing just fucking got to me. You know I’m not good with emotions.”

It got to me because he’s lying. Because he’s just trying to find someone, anyone that’ll sleep with him and I just happen to be the only girl left.

 

Yaomomo got to her feet next to Jirou while Jirou continued, clicking her jacks together and focusing on little else.

 

“I don’t really know how I feel. But I know that whatever he thinks he feels, it isn’t real.”

 

Because if he really knew me, he’d hate me. He’d realize that at my core, I’m just a bitter wreck pretending to be held together. Pretending that I’m not just a broken and cynical and lonely shell of a person who doesn’t deserve any of the friends she has.

Jirou did not like feelings. Feelings were loud and complicated and usually involved people, all of which made them terrible. Who needed to talk about feeling alone or angry or sad or tired or in love when you could just barricade yourself in a room with a guitar, three Red Bulls and an amp and figure it out from there? Not that Jirou would write a love song, or ever want a love song written about her. Jirou had used her Red Bull technique to get her through the anxiety of applying to UA, to get her over no less than three middle school crushes, two of which were fictional, and to deal with the emotional grab-bag of tween angst. Music certainly helped when one didn’t have any friends, anyway. She could handle herself through losing her entire extended family to a freak bus crash if it came to it.

 

But then she just had to fucking go and make friends. Kaminari, that infernal ray of blinding sunshine, had bounded into her life like a Golden Retriever with a lightning bolt tattooed on its side and had decided to curl up at her feet for the rest of time, apparently. Or, at this point, maybe ‘decided to hump her leg’ was more appropriate, but Jirou digressed. Then came Yaomomo, a woman who seemed so obnoxiously perfect that she must have been made in a laboratory. Jirou knew better, and after discovering that Yaomomo was held together by self-help books and extra-strength deodorant as well as the whole fighting-for-their-lives-together thing with both of them, Jirou had ended up with two close friends. For better or for worse.

 

As much as she loved spending time with Yaomomo, though, it was very different than hanging out with Kaminari. With Yaomomo there was always a goal, an objective, something to do or accomplish. Jirou didn’t fault Yaomomo for that; it was just the way she was. Yaomomo did well with coloring inside the lines, whereas Kaminari was more inclined to throw the crayons at a nearby fan to ‘see what happens.’

 

Weirdly enough, Jirou felt at peace with Kaminari in a way that she didn’t with Yaomomo. Kaminari wasn’t just fun, he was, well, consistent. For all of the shit she gave Kaminari (rightfully so), that didn’t stop him from being the first person she turned to whenever she needed to feel at peace again. For Jirou, a lazy grin, good food, and a stupid joke went a long way in making her feel better and despite Kaminari’s ditziness, he wasn’t stupid. Jirou stopped her train of thought for a moment to reflect that “A Lazy Grin, Good Food, and a Stupid Joke” could very well be the name of Kaminari’s autobiography. He was a constant, in that sense. Rain or hail, day or night, Kaminari was always ready to help her feel better by just being himself. That was his gift, she supposed. Sure, Kaminari had a powerful quirk, was a good fighter when his back was against the wall, played guitar semi-competently, and made decent pancakes but what made Kaminari, well, Kaminari was his ability to make people happy. Jirou knew, without a doubt, if she had to face the end of the world, she’d face it with him in a heartbeat.

 

She could see it now. Kaminari would take one look around, and say that the end of the world came at just the right time. After all, he had a dentist appointment next Wednesday, and, god help him, he hadn’t flossed since he was in preschool. He’d get that twinkle in his eyes and get that big goofy grin and she’d roll her eyes and smile despite herself. Jirou digressed.

 

But that, though, wasn’t love. That was just what being friends was. Kaminari was just a really close friend. No more, no less.

 

Right?

 

Yaomomo’s voice brought her back to down to Earth and away from all those irritating thoughts.

 

“I completely understand, Jirou. And truth be told, this is the best way you could’ve found out about this. We’ll all be back in our respective homes in a day or two, and by then things will have settled. You don’t have to apologize for being overwhelmed.”

 

Yaomomo sipped her own tea and smiled ruefully.

 

“We’re teenagers learning to fight evil. We’re allowed to be a little overwhelmed from time to time.”

 

As Jirou sat on Yaomomo’s bed, watching Shoji and Kendou throw a frisbee back and forth on the lawn outside of the dorms through the window, the two of them abusing their quirks to make increasingly ridiculous catches, Yaomomo took on a more cautionary and reproachful tone.

 

“But Jirou, short-term, you’ve got some things you have to attend to. The entire class thinks you and Kaminari *ahem* did the dirty last night, which means you need a plan of some sort to shut down those rumors.”

 

Her eyes drifted to the shirt and pants Jirou was wearing.

 

“Which probably starts with changing your clothes.”

 

“Yeah, you’re definitely right.”

 

Jirou stared off into the rolling hills outside of UA, shining in the bright spring light, dreading the awkward conversations to come, struggling with her angry mental ball of self-hatred and doubt, and finding it difficult to think about anyone except that damn bright yellow Golden Retriever of a human being.

Notes:

Thanks for reading and for leaving all the comments and kudos on chapter 1! I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter, too. Next week is Kaminari and the Bakusquad.

Chapter 3: More Stupider

 

Kaminari ran to the first place he could think of for ideas for his confession: his friends’ group chat. As he opened it, he realized that the chat had been active while he slept, and scrolled down to the most recent messages.

 

flexandthecity: KAM KAM KAM KAM KAM KAM KAM

 

[username has been redacted for foul language]: that’s fucking obnoxious, shut it

 

flexandthecity: Bakugou, c’mon. be proud of our boy.

 

[redacted]: the first time and last time I felt pride for someone else was when that little kid punched Deku in the balls

 

flexandthecity: Dude it’s love. It drives people to die valiantly for others and fight impossible odds.

 

[redacted]: what? how do you know that anything happened? Jirou just hasn’t left his dorm.

 

flexandthecity: this is a time for celebration and I have faith in Kam to step up

 

[redacted]: Stop being fucking weird. I’m going to sleep

 

flexandthecity: well, I’m proud enough for both of us. Talk to us in the morning Kaminari, if you’re not too busy making breakfast for the missus ; )

 

Kaminari rolled his eyes after glancing over the chat. Bakugou clearly hadn’t held a grudge for the “Sparky” comment, and at least Kirishima had his back. Kaminari unlocked his phone and began to type.

 

deepfriedkaminari: why didnt u tell me about the bet dumbass? i would’ve gotten u rich and gotten me a girlfriend.

 

flexandthecity: do you have a girlfriend now?

 

[redacted]: Did anything actually happen?

 

deepfriedkaminari: no and no, but i really wish u guys had told me that u knew about everything

 

flexandthecity: i refuse to get in the way of the natural progression of love

 

[redacted]: are you actually this far up your own ass

 

deepfriedkaminari: yes

 

flexandthecity: romance is serious, bakugou

 

deepfriedkaminari: seriously does jirou have a crush on me or not cause tokoyami just blew my world right open

 

flexandthecity: yes, your love was formed through friendship and combat experience.

 

[redacted]: the fuck, kirishima? she thinks you’re funny, gets embarrassed when you compliment her and spends loads of time with you. probably a crush.

 

deepfriedkaminari: have u been watching me and jirou closely?

 

[redacted]: it’s called having situational fucking awareness and maybe if you didn’t fry your last fucking brain cell every time you whipped out that worthless fucking quirk you would have picked up on it

 

deepfriedkaminari: lol i touched a nerve

 

flexandthecity: at least you didn’t push the deku button lol

 

[redacted]: i’ll kill you both

 

flexandthecity: so nothing happened??

 

deepfriedkaminari: nah she just brought me to my dorm and i crashed on my floor and she dozed off in my bed

 

flexandthecity: why didn’t she leave?

 

deepfriedkaminari: just tired i guess? im gonna confess to her and i need ur help cause i am fresh out of ideas

 

flexandthecity: hang glide into a cliff side and then carve out a giant heart and show it to her

 

deepfriedkaminari: no. meet up at bakugou’s dorm in five for brainstorming?

 

flexandthecity: sure

 

[redacted]: why?

 

deepfriedkaminari: its the cleanest

 

flexandthecity: ^!!!!!

 

[redacted]: fine

 

diethanta: How is that nothing happens all year but as soon as I leave everything goes down?? Not even fair

 

Kaminari grinned as Tokoyami walked, flustered and confused, back to his dorm. On his own, he could skirt by but he had faith that Bakugou and Kirishima could help him make something romantic and wonderful. Probably. Kaminari finished scraping the charred remains of his breakfast out of the pan and into the sink, filling it up halfway to let the pan soak. The sink was remarkably empty for a Saturday morning, since Satou didn’t need to make his coffee cakes for the week and Kirishima didn’t need to bring to life whatever horrendous high-protein abomination he wanted, given that break basically started in tomorrow. Kaminari dried off his hands and cracked open the fridge, grabbing an energy drink and an apple for his walk to Bakugou’s dorm. Not the healthiest breakfast, but hey, what can caffeine do to your brain that 1.3 million volts can’t?

 

Kaminari wandered up to Bakugou’s dorm, crunching the apple as he went, savoring the sweet crispy flesh of the fruit. Man, I want apple pie. I wonder if Satou has a good pie crust recipe. I bet he’d teach me how to make pie. Would Todoroki let me use his quirk to keep the butter cold?   He filed all pie-related thoughts away for a later time. Kaminari let out a contented sigh at the sight of Bakugou’s dorm door. Much like Yaomomo’s, it had a decoration. It was a large, simple sign that read “Do Not Enter” in bright red, capital letters, with a skull and crossbones directly below it. Unfettered, Kaminari swung open the door to find Kirishima lounging on a beanbag and Bakugou aggressively trimming his toenails. The dorm was fairly normal, with no real stand-out features beyond the All-Might poster on the wall and the vague smell of gunpowder that wafted through the room. A single defiantly unlit scented candle stood atop his desk. Kaminari smiled at the sight of it. Yaomomo had attempted to nudge Bakugou in the right direction with her Secret Santa gift; namely nudging his dorm away from smelling like a shooting range and smelling more like a bakery. Bakugou had taken this to be both an insult and a declaration of war, and had vowed to never use the candle. Yaomomo retaliated by sending Bakugou a passage from Cooperation for Difficult People: Five Easy Steps to Working Well with Others which had, predictably, ended poorly and had eventually led to Aizawa stepping in after a shouting match in the kitchen. Kirishima grinned widely, shark teeth in a broad smile while Bakugou ignored Kaminari in favor of screaming expletives at his toes.

 

“Bakugou, your sign really makes me wish I could read,” Kaminari drawled, fully aware that he could say anything he wanted without fear of retribution during one of Bakugou’s tantrums.

 

“STUPID HANGNAIL PIECE OF S--”

 

Kirishima, on the other hand, seemed to be welling up with positive emotions, not that Kaminari minded or that it was anything out of the ordinary. His hair was tucked into a white bandana. Tucked wasn’t the right word, Kaminari mused. The bandana held back a rockslide of spiky red hair, a sign that Kirishima hadn’t yet used the gobs of hair gel necessary for the day.   

 

“Dude, I’m so jealous you fell for someone already,” Kirishima said, eyes earnest.

 

Kaminari laughed lightly, before stopping to tilt his head quizzically at Kirishima.

 

“Uh, why?”

 

Kirishima’s eyes lit up brighter than before as he started to gesture energetically as he spoke.

 

“Do you know how many classic hero stories start because of love? It’s up there with revenge as, like, one of the biggest motivators for true heroes. Orpheus went into hell to bring his girlfriend back from the dead . Odysseus spent decades trying to make it back to his wife after the Trojan War. John McClane fought a whole building full of terrorists to save his wife, and he was just a beat cop.”

 

Bakugou glanced up from his toenails, rage apparently forgotten.

 

“Orpheus got his girlfriend sentenced to eternity in hell because he couldn’t follow directions and Odysseus spent most of the Odyssey cheating on his wife, dumbass.”

 

Bakugou paused for a moment in thought. “Pensive” and “Bakugou” were words that normally went together like “rottweiler” and “daycare,” but the effect was good.

 

“ Die Hard ’s fair, though.”

 

Kaminari and Kirishima nodded in agreement. Bakugou, however, wasn’t finished.

 

“Besides, Kaminari, you’re not in love with Jirou, right? You two idiots just have crushes on each other.”

 

He gestured aggressively between Kaminari and the empty space next to him with the toenail clippers, with the air of a cavalry officer brandishing a sword.

 

Kirishima deflated.

 

Kaminari felt his face well up with color. He knew he had feelings for her, sure, and strong ones at that, but love was, well, love . But, if he had to really think about it, it stopped probably being a crush after having feelings for someone for multiple years. At a certain point, there was a line that was probably crossed.

 

“Hey, dipshit.”

 

Kaminari’s train of thought ran off the tracks and into the station. Hundreds died. A day of remembrance was made.

 

“Yeah, I think so, maybe.”

 

This, unfortunately, only seemed to make Bakugou angrier.

 

“Yes or no? Give me a straight goddamn answer before I shove your phone so far down your throat that every time you get a text message from Short, Dark, and Snarky, you pee a little.”

 

Bakugou stood up suddenly, moving closer and closer to Kaminari until Kaminari’s hands went up, stopping him in place.

 

“Hey! Look, it’s weird. It’s not just a crush, because I’ve had crushes before, but I’m not sure if it’s love love . It’s like this confusing middle ground between, like, a crush and love. I think. I mean, I care about her and want her to be happy, though. I want to spend loads of time together and I think she’s really smart and funny and hot and cool,” he said, words spilling out of him like milk from a jug.

Bakugou glared angrily at him and Kaminari felt the sinking feeling that perhaps Bakugou just wanted to be pissed off. A small part of him, however, felt like the rage was a bit too abrupt, almost calculated to force Kaminari to say how exactly he felt. However, all consideration for the possible subtlety of Katsuki Bakugou vanished as soon as he started speaking again.

 

“Whatever. You know her better than anyone. Tell her however you think she would like to be told. None of these shitheads,” he said, jabbing his thumb towards Kirishima, “him included, will tell you to do that. They’ll go over the fucking top and probably ruin any chance you have.”

 

Kirishima opened his mouth to protest, but Bakugou’s anger had already kicked into high gear. During their second year, Bakugou’s outbursts had become less frequent, but no less intense.

 

“Spiky, how many of your confession plans involved live music?”

 

“That’s totally unfair, Bakugou--”

 

“How many of them involved sets, Kaminari being in a suit, or fucking fireworks ?”

 

“I-I--”

 

“ Live. Animals. This is about the two of them. Don’t turn it into a fucking spectacle, Kirishima. ”

 

Kirishima wisely chose to be quiet. That, however, still spoke volumes. Kaminari briefly pondered asking if dead animals would be better or worse than live ones, and decided against it.

 

Bakugou smirked. Smug Bakugou somehow managed to be infinitely more terrifying and appalling than angry Bakugou.

 

“Trust your gut. If Sero hadn’t left early, he’d be saying the same shit I am. You’re an idiot, but you know Jirou. Most of these people absolutely fucking do not.”

 

The smirk widened into a grin. Ah, here it came.

 

“See? You’d all be lost without me, you know that? Bunch of morons running around like chickens with their--”

 

Kaminari and Kirishima had already both tuned out Bakugou, and Kirishima gave Kaminari a sheepish smile. They both counted Bakugou as one of their closest friends, but that meant they knew him well enough that once the bragging started, it’d be a little while before the topic turned away from the genius of Bakugou. Sero had a lower tolerance for it than either of them did, but they took it as part of the Katsuki Bakugou Experience. Kaminari, however, in honor of Sero’s early departure, planned on getting Bakugou back somehow.

 

“Sorry if I got caught up in everything. I’m still down to help out if I can, but I won’t pressure you one way or the other. I didn’t mean to pressure you into feeling like you had to be in love or whatever,” Kirishima sheepishly said.

 

Kaminari shrugged, shoulders loose and hair messy. Kirishima was a man of passion and intensity. It wasn’t because he was stupid, he was just was a bit immature. Not that Kaminari had any leg to stand on in the realms of maturity, though. He was worse than any of them in that regard. All Kirishima’s eagerness meant was that he was a staunch supporter of Kaminari, which, quite frankly, helped.

 

“No sweat, dude.”

 

His brow furrowed.

 

“I still have no clue how to tell her, though.”

 

Kirishima settled back into the bean bag chair, shifting in a bit in place to find the most comfortable position.

 

“Do you think she’d like flowers? All girls have a favorite flower, right?”

 

Kaminari pulled out Bakugou’s desk chair, reclining back and losing himself in thought.

 

“Dude, you’re right. I dunno what it would be, though. She did really like the yellow tulips in front of the dorms last year.”

 

He stopped for a minute. Wait a second…

 

“It’s really weird that people have favorite flowers, but not like, favorite types of grass. Why don’t other plants get the same treatment?”

 

Kirishima was still in the midst of shifting into the bean bag chair when he responded.

 

“I have a favorite kind of grass. That’s not weird.”

 

Kaminari stared at him, confused.

 

“Do you just come to somebody’s house and your first thought is ‘this grass kicks ass’ or like ‘this grass sucks hard?’ Is the grass at my house cool?”

 

Kirishima shook his head vigorously.

 

“No, no, I just mean that it’s really nice during the summer when you can just walk outside barefoot through nice and green grass, you know? That’s my favorite kind of grass.”

 

Kaminari continued to stare, confused.

 

“Yeah, and my favorite kind of dog is one that is alive and has fur, dude. That’s part of it being grass. It has to be green and alive.”

 

Kaminari suddenly realized that Bakugou had been staring at Kirishima and Kaminari with a look that bled over from confusion into pure contempt.

 

“You are two of the stupidest fucking people I have ever met.”

 

Kaminari snickered. Now this, he could work with.

 

“Stupidest isn’t a word, Bakugou.”

 

Bakugou’s rage was cold.

 

“What?”

 

“It isn’t a word. You spoke all improper and wrong and stuff.”

 

Kirishima laughed, finally having settled into a comfortable bean bag position and raised his hand for a high five.

 

“Not every day you get one over on Bakugou, man. Up top.”

 

Bakugou turned a shade of red only seen in tomato sauce as Kaminari’s hand made a sharp crack against Kirishima’s.

 

“It’s stupider, dumbasses.”

 

Kaminari looked at him in confusion.

 

“What’s stupider?”

 

Kirishima, too, looked confused.

 

“The grass thing? I don’t know if that’s dumber than flowers, man.”

 

Bakugou was nearly inarticulate.

 

“No, it’s fucking stupider that isn’t--”

 

Kaminari cleared his throat. Sure, he appreciated Bakugou’s advice, but Kaminari had found an opportunity to push Bakugou’s buttons. Not that it was particularly hard to do, mind you, but that didn’t stop it from being really funny.

 

“Sparky, I was right, and you weren’t. You gotta move past it.”

 

Kirishima nodded in agreement as a vein bulged in Bakugou’s forehead. A little bit more and they just might be able to coax a proper screaming fit out of him.

 

“Accepting when you lose is an important part of being a man, Bakugou. Learn to lose with grace.”

 

And there it was. The breaking point.

 

“NO ITS THAT STUPIDER ISN’T A FUCKING WORD AND STUPIDEST IS YOU FUCKING ABSOLUTE NUMBSKULL FUCKWITS GET THE HELL OUT OF MY ROOM!” he bellowed in the manner that only Bakugou really could, halfway between toddler and Drill Sergeant.

 

Kaminari and Kirishima immediately leapt up from their seats and bolted from the room, laughing maniacally as they did so. Kaminari ducked, anticipating the notebook that was about to sailing past his head. Sure enough, it whizzed past his head at breakneck speed and slammed into the doorframe. Kirishima and Kaminari kept a consistent speed until they reached the common room, laughing and wheezing the whole way. When they stopped, flopping onto the couches, Kirishima once again turned to Kaminari. The common room basked in the warm rays of the Saturday noon sun and was mercifully empty. The emptiness was tinged with sadness too, though. Everyone had left already, only leaving Bakugou, Kaminari, Kirishima, Tokoyami, Jirou, Tsuyu, Yaomomo, and Mina. Even then, they’d all be gone by this time tomorrow. Still, it was far from the worst company in the world, but there was a sense of sadness that came with another semester at UA gone. At least they all lived reasonably close to one another, and most of them were still in town. Mei had an internship in New York but she was the only one he could think of who was gone all summer. Her boss was supposed to be some genius egomaniac with more money and toys than god, so Kaminari figured Mei would fit right in. Iida was doing something in Hosu for someone or some firm and it was all very important and serious and Iida was thankful that he was doing his part and so on and so forth. Iida had spent a great deal of time detailing all of this, but much like in the classroom, it kind of drifted in one ear and out the other for Kaminari. Kaminari’s mental checklist was cut off by Kirishima, who eyed him before speaking.

 

“So dude…”

 

Kirishima’s eyes were earnest, as always.

 

“What’re you gonna say?”

 

Kaminari grinned.

 

“You’re gorgeous, I’m cute. Wanna figure this thing out?”

 

Kirishima slapped him lightly on the back of the neck, making Kaminari jump.

 

“Oi. This is someone you actually like . And, more importantly, this is someone who actually might like you, so don’t fuck it up by being a jackass.”

 

Kaminari sobered a little, the grin faltering and the swagger dropping. Kirishima put a supportive hand on his shoulder.

 

“I know, man,” Kaminari said.

 

The grin kept falling and turned into a steady frown, Kaminari’s lips tightening into a solid line in the afternoon light. When he started to continue, his voice was quieter, all of the pomp and swagger drained away. Something cold and icy welled up inside of him, starting at his toes and creeping up through his chest.

 

“I don’t want to fuck this up. I like her. I genuinely really, really like her. She’s hot and cool and smart and way too good for me and I don’t know how to tell her that without her thinking that I’m not taking this seriously. I don’t want to get just, like, coffee together. I wanna date her. ”

 

Under Kirishima’s watchful eye, Kaminari flushed a deep, bright red, as he started to fumble his words and stutter.

 

“Normally, the stakes are super low, right? Like, who cares if some random girl and I get coffee or not? Nobody. But this matters to me. She matters to me. I wanna show her that.”

 

Kaminari exhaled, shoulders falling as he did so. Kirishima patted Kaminari on the shoulder as gently as Kirishima could manage. Kirishima’s brow furrowed.

 

“I think Bakugou’s right. You know what Jirou’s gonna like more than most. I know that doesn’t help a whole lot, but trust yourself.”

 

Kaminari watched his hands, a small yellow bolt of electricity dancing through his fingers. He’d started doing it for practice with smaller, controlled bursts of electricity, but at some point it had become relaxing. Kaminari always had what his Mom called “busy hands.” No matter what he was doing, he’d always be tapping something or fiddling with something, even without looking at it. The baby lightning, he supposed was just his replacement after Mina destroyed his Rubix cube, which was still her fault, despite what she insisted. He watched it arc up and down, back and forth, side to side across his palm and the very faint smell of ozone filled his nose.

 

After a moment, he spoke. “I think I’m just gonna tell her that. I’m gonna tell her that I’m taking this seriously and that I like her for her and stuff. I’ll tell her that I know she might doubt it, but that I wanna be with her, as a boyfriend, not like, as a friend. She’ll probably appreciate me being straight and honest with her, right?”

 

Kirishima shrugged. “It’s probably the right call.”

 

Kaminari pursed his lips in thought before smiling, a grin breaking out on his face.

 

“Straightforward and honest it is, then. I got this. Thanks for the help, dude. I’ll thank Bakugou later, when he’s a little less, well, Bakugou-y.”

 

Kirishima grunted in approval and spoke.

 

“Don’t thank me yet. We’re working out legs tonight before we leave.”

 

Kaminari’s shoulders slumped.

 

“Aww, man, no. If I’m gonna confess I wanna do chest and triceps so I’ll look extra good if I end up shirtless,” he said with a soft laugh.

 

Kirishima raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“That’s a big assumption to make, dude.”

 

Kaminari turned scarlet again. The cold feeling flared in his chest, swallowing him whole and filling him from his eyes to his toes with ice.

 

“Why? Do you think she’ll say no? You never told me if you thought she’d say yes or not,” he quickly shot out, trying his best to mask the worry in his voice and failing horribly.

 

Kirishima peered at him with genuine concern this time, red flecked eyes lining up with Kaminari’s luminescent gold ones.

 

“Christ, I was kidding. It’s just that you ending up shirtless is a big assumption. I still think she’ll say yes, dude.”

 

Kaminari let off a shallow laugh, anxieties clearly reignited. With a sigh, Kirishima untied the bandana from around his head, his bright red locks falling in a curtain around his neck as he continued, turning the bandana in his hands.

 

“Honestly, I know I kinda got caught up in all the craziness earlier and got all weird and I’m really sorry about that. A part of me just wants all of us to be like those classic heroes, and I think love is a part of being a hero, as weird as that sounds.”

 

He wrapped the bandana around his palm, seemingly lost in the interwoven patterns on the black fabric.

 

“But that’s not important right now. You guys are. I want you to know that me and Bakugou and Sero and Mina; we’re all in your corner. You’re a bit of an ass sometimes, but you’re a good guy who genuinely cares about the people close to him and goes out of his way to make people laugh.  That’s why me and Mina and Sero all like you. I think that’s why Jirou probably likes you. How many times has she had a bad day and you did something stupid just to make it better? I know you’ve never really had, like, real feelings when you were asking girls out and that makes it scary, but I think that just means you’re doing the right thing. You’re being serious about this, and you’ve got us behind you, no matter what. ”

 

Kaminari felt the ice in his chest thaw a little. It was still there, but his chest felt lighter, and a little warmer too. He smiled, wide and genuine. Kirishima huffed, his cheeks pink.

 

“So, don’t get so caught up on everything. You’ve got this, alright?”

 

“Thanks, Kirishima. I love you guys.”

 

Kirishima leaned in and hugged him tight. Kaminari reciprocated, pulling him in close. Kirishima thankfully refrained from his back breakingly strong hugs he normally gave, putting Kaminari at ease. Halfway through the hug, however, a thought dawned on Kaminari.

 

“Wait, Kirishima, why didn’t you say Bakugou liked me?”

 

Kirishima was partially muffled by the hug, but still came through loud and clear.

 

“Bakugou doesn’t like anybody.”

 

The two boys separated, laughing once more and Kaminari feeling a bit more at ease. Kaminari cocked an eyebrow at Kirishima. Kaminari felt that he and Bakugou had a delightfully tenuous relationship largely built on Bakugou knowing that if he killed Kaminari for saying the things he did, it just meant that Kaminari would win. Kirishima was a different story.

 

Kaminari tilted his head, as if asking a question, at Kirishima.  “He does like you, though.”

 

Kirishima smiled sagely, staring off into the distance as if a million miles away from Kaminari and the empty common room.

 

“Eh, he tolerates me. One day, he’ll tolerate you, too. Let's meet back here in fifteen to go do legs."

 

Kaminari looked at Kirishima for a brief moment, smiles on both their faces and Kaminari felt a rush of warmth as the memories of their two years at UA came racing through his head: pranking their friends with Mina, playing late night truth or dare with their classmates, eating the big group breakfast where Kaminari got to play sous chef to Bakugou, and going on late night walks with Jirou. It all seemed to go by so very quick that Kaminari couldn’t help but be a little angry at himself for not realizing how amazing it all was, even looking back. It’d been one hell of a year.  

Notes:

Hey all, sorry for the late posting of this one. I struggled a lot writing this chapter, and I think it shows at times. Next week, it's confession time and the start of summer so get ready y'all. Comments are always appreciated.

Chapter 4: To the Moon

deepfriedkaminari: is stupider a word

 

deepestdope: yes

 

deepfriedkaminari: is stupidest a word

 

deepestdope: also yes

 

deepfriedkaminari: HA bakugou was wrong lol

 

deepestdope: jammingway it’s 1 am and you came to me to settle an argument with blasty mcsplode?

 

deepfriedkaminari: sorry

 

deepestdope: Don’t be, I’m honored, honestly.

 

deepfriedkaminari: i know its late but can I come over

 

deepestdope: is everything okay?

 

deepfriedkaminari: yea I just wanna say goodbye before we leave

 

deepestdope: sure, I’m packing the last of my stuff up right now.

 

deepestdope: if you help I’ll let you get really sappy unless you and Kirishima have already gotten all emotional already.

 

deepfriedkaminari: y?

 

deepestdope: because I’m gonna miss you dumbass but if you’re coming hot off of kirishima I can’t handle that much emotion in one sitting.

 

deepfriedkaminari: haha yea

 

deepestdope: you sure everything’s okay, dude? Did you sneak beer in?

 

deepfriedkaminari: yea and i would never

 

deepestdope: just come by already so you can help me take down my posters. I’m too short for this shit and Yaomomo’s already asleep.

 

Jirou rolled her eyes and clicked off her phone, tossing it onto her bed with a soft thump. Her bed and her posters were the last remnants of her room, with all of the audio equipment bundled up, the instruments in their cases, and her desk clear of any debris. Half of her clothes had been neatly folded by Yaomomo and placed into a suitcase, while the other half had been balled up by Jirou and shoved into a large gym bag. Yaomomo was always a massive help. A long nap, a shower, and a fresh change of clothes had made Jirou feel good enough to engage with the rest of the girls at the final brunch thing of the year. The responses had been predictable; Tooru congratulating Jirou on her new relationship, Mina dropping inappropriate questions about how Kaminari was in bed, and Tsu looking as confused and appalled as Jirou was at the whole predicament. But, Jirou and Yaomomo had quickly stepped in and laid down the law and everything had gone off without a hitch. It was funny, Jirou thought, that a year ago she would’ve been terrified that Kaminari would have gone around claiming that they’d slept together, but now, not so much. He was an idiot and a flirt, but he wasn’t liar, even if Kaminari did think he had feelings for Jirou. That, she supposed, was a different sort of lie. Jirou was setting her clothes out for the next day when there was a series of knocks at the door. Jirou stepped briefly in front of her full body mirror to make sure that she didn’t look like too much of a wreck. Between the baggy pyjama pants, the loose t-shirt, and messy hair Jirou figured she’d managed to achieve an acceptable level of organization for 1:15 am. The knock sounded again, a bit quicker and faster-paced this time.

 

“Jammingway, normal people are asleep right now. Knock it off,” she said opening the door to expose Kaminari, earbuds in and the sound of something blaring in his ears. He gave her a lopsided grin and popped one of the earbuds.

 

“Yeah, I’ll wake up all three of the people still on this floor,” he said, eyes twinkling as the tinny sound of something soft and old-sounding came through the earbuds.

 

“Also, knock it off? Was that a pun?” he questioned as Jirou flicked her eyes up to the ceiling and gestured for him to come in. She noticed that Kaminari seemed surprisingly well dressed for the middle of the night, with a dark blue button-up and a white v-neck shirt. He’d also showered recently. His hair wasn’t damp, but he did distinctly still smell of mint. Not that Jirou minded, given the alternative.

 

“Shhhhh. What’re you all dressed up for, anyway? Are you from one of those gimmicky moving companies?” she asked, as a heavy yawn started somewhere in her chest and dragged itself out.

 

Kaminari’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink and didn’t meet her eyes as he walked over to the largest of the posters on the wall.

 

“Absolutely. I’m from Junior Heroes Hauling Junk. We charge hourly.”

 

Jirou smiled to herself before retorting, “You’re not getting a tip.”

 

Kaminari stood on his tip toes and plucked the first thumbtack out of the poster as he replied, “I can live with that. Can you believe that my boss won’t let us unionize?”

 

Jirou laid down, back first onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling before she spoke.

 

“I’m impressed that you know what a union is.”

 

Kaminari laughed, almost dropping the tacks he was holding, his back to Jirou, as he responded.

 

“I don’t really. It’s kind of like taxes and health insurance. I know it exists but I have no idea what any of it means. Like, what even is a healthcare premium? Is it like a ski pass for ambulance rides? I’m asking for Midoriya.”

 

It was Jirou’s turn to laugh as Kaminari took the poster down, rolling it up into a tube and then placing it into a long cardboard cylinder at his feet. Jirou stared up at the ceiling, remembering all the sleepless stressful nights of staring up, praying that she’d be able to finally drift off at some point. Kaminari took down the next poster, before a thought occurred to Jirou.

 

“Hey, what were you listening to on the way over here? I thought I recognized it,” Jirou said.

 

Kaminari turned beet-red. Even from behind, Jirou could tell that his face matched his stunningly red ears. Now this she had to hear. Kaminari never embarrassed that easily.

 

“You’re gonna think it’s weird,” he said, as Jirou shot straight up in bed, re-energized.

 

“Nope. You don’t get off that easily, flyboy,” Jirou shot out as a grin stretched across her face and she darted out and grabbed his phone from his back pocket, unplugging his earbuds. The song paused and Jirou glanced at the screen, savoring her accomplishment.

 

“Oh,” was all Jirou had to say. In bright letters, Fly Me to the Moon by Frank Sinatra shone out at her in the darkened room. Before Jirou could speak, Kaminari set down the poster he was taking down and placed the tacks on Jirou’s desk. He had on his most awkward, sheepish half-smile as he held out his hand and Jirou met his eyes. She’d seen them wide with wonder, but she’d never seen them so, well, vulnerable. There wasn’t any swagger or sharpness to his gaze. They were open and genuine. The gold in his eyes wasn’t glitzy or bubbly like champagne. It was soft and warm, like honey. The love song, the late night visit, and the awkwardness all clicked into place. Jirou found herself transfixed as it dawned on her that she wasn’t looking at Kaminari or Chargebolt, the brash sarcastic young hero, but rather Denki, a well-meaning if dorky teenager trying his best to pretend he wasn’t head over heels for Jirou. Oh, indeed.

 

  “I don’t really know how to say this, but would you, uh, dance with me?” he said, as the sound of Kaminari’s voice rang through her mind and she felt herself flush.

 

She laughed shallowly as she spoke, “I don’t know how.”

 

He smiled, warmly and genuinely, hand still outstretched and Jirou hated that she didn’t grab it because she knew she didn’t deserve it. She knew that this wasn’t her happiness. This was a moment for someone else. This was a moment for someone who could be happy for him and smile with him and make Kaminari feel all gooey and happy and whatever. That wasn’t her. That fucking wasn’t her and she didn’t deserve--

 

Kaminari reached out and took her hand anyway, her smaller, calloused fingers enclosed by his larger, softer, warmer ones and gently pulled her closer to him. Soon, they were chest to chest, with Kaminari looking down at her with that same sheepish smile and those honey eyes, as he picked up his phone and pressed play.

 

“I’ll show you,” he said, in a voice softer than his eyes or his hands.

 

Fly me to the moon

Let me play among the stars

 

Kaminari placed her other hand on his shoulder and placed his other hand on her hip and Jirou felt her face darken into a deep, burning, crimson red. They locked eyes again, and Jirou found herself again wishing that she wasn’t her; that she could be different in every single way imaginable. Kaminari laughed lightly as they began to sway back and forth in time with the song, and the music filled the room. He lifted his arm up and spun her around it, and Jirou found herself laughing with him, swept up in the moment and the music.

 

Let me see what spring is like on

A-Jupiter and Mars

 

He broke eye contact with her and stared off into space as he started to talk, his voice quiet under the sounds of the song while they swayed back and forth, left and right. Jirou was so close she could feel how warm he was, and felt wrapped up in the gentle smell of mint and rain that seemed to follow Kaminari wherever he danced; wherever he lead her.

 

“I, uh, love you, I think. I know I flirt a lot, and I’m an idiot, like, a lot of the time, but when I make you feel laugh I feel like that’s what I was put on this planet to do because nothing else makes me feel the way that does.”

    

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, baby, kiss me

 

“I feel like that sounds selfish, somehow. I don’t want it to. I worry that you’ll think this is me lying to sleep with you, but this isn’t what this is. This matters to me more than, well, pretty much anything else I can think of, really.”

 

This was Denki, then. Sure, he was still Kaminari. He was still Chargebolt. He was still her friend that would make dumb comments to make her laugh or tease Bakugou or get into stupid little competitions with Kirishima. But this was something else. This was a tenderness she never thought he had. That wasn’t to say that Jirou thought he was heartless, it was just that there was something so different and heartfelt about Kaminari.

 

Fill my heart with song

and let me sing forever more

 

“I love when you text me a song to listen to on the walk to class. I love when you play guitar and sing and I can see all of your worries melt away and watch you do something that fits you better than your clothes. I love that you don’t take shit from anyone, least of all me. I love that you’re not afraid to speak your mind and stuff. I love everything about who you are and who you choose to be and honestly, I could go on for a really long time here, but I won’t.”

 

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

 

And with that Kaminari looked once more into her eyes, and Jirou felt something inside of her stop and stutter a little. Those damned eyes that took her in, made her feel safe and warm and comfortable like nothing else ever could. There was nothing but him and music, no issues, no problems; just the two of them on the precipice of something. Something that felt like it could be real. Something that felt right in a way that Jirou never knew existed outside of music. For a moment, Jirou tuned out the world just to listen to this stupid, dorky boy.

 

In other words, please be true

In other words, I love you

 

The words slid out of Kaminari’s mouth easily this time. There was no stutter, no qualification, no ‘I think’s, if’s, and’s or but’s.’

 

“I love you, Kyouka.”

 

Without even thinking, Jirou closed the gap between them and placed her lips on his, savoring the taste of his lips on hers. She placed one hand on the back of his head and stood on the tips of her toes as she pulled him in closer, her hand sliding through his hair.  She felt Kaminari jump in surprise before he leaned into the kiss, wrapping her up in his arms and Jirou felt herself melt into him. Everything else faded into a blur and for a brief, shining moment, Jirou basked in a moment that felt like hers; something for no one else but her. But as the song faded, Jirou realized what had to be done. Jirou gently broke the kiss, staring back up at those same eyes. The biggest grin Jirou had ever seen stretched across Kaminari face in the soft light of her dorm and Jirou felt something inside of her scream in pain.

 

“Kaminari, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” she said, in the most gentle voice she could. Jirou watched the million-watt grin on his face fall into confusion as he stared back at her.

 

“What’d you mean?” he said, and she could see confusion and disappointment twist his face into something dreary.

 

Jirou took in a deep breath and said, “I can’t do this. Not right now.”

 

“Did I do something wrong? Did I come on too strong? Do you mean no kissing? Cause I can handle not doing that,” Kaminari babbled, as Jirou felt a rush of sadness and sympathy inside of her.

 

“No! God no, it’s not you--” she started to speak before Kaminari cut Jirou off with a sad smile.

 

“It’s me? You mean, like, the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ thing? Don’t people only say that when it’s the other person?” he said, as Jirou smiled softly.

 

“Kaminari, I mean that. I can’t be with anybody right now. When you say all those things and you kiss me, I feel like I don’t deserve it. I’m not that Jirou. It’s not that they’re bad, I just wish I was worthy of them, I guess.” she said, once again meeting his eyes. They were wide and perplexed, but still rapt with attention.

 

“I just don’t like who I am. I’m really bitter and angry and cynical, and when you talk about me like I’m this perfect person, I feel like you’re lying to me, even when I know you’re not,” she continued.

 

“If you know that I’m not lying, then why do you feel like I am? And of course you’re that Jirou. Unless you became a pod person since I last saw you, of course. If so, you are surprisingly good at making out with humans.” Kaminari said, head tilted to one side.

 

Jirou laughed lightly, before settling into a more somber expression and said, “I don’t know how to really explain it. It’s like, no matter how much somebody says I’m a good person or that they love me for who I am, I can’t believe it. It’s just not enough to change what I keep fucking telling myself, you know?”

 

“Oh. A-Am I not enough for you?” Kaminari said, face crestfallen and ashen as Jirou saw her words wash over him. Kaminari took a step back from her, and avoided meeting her gaze.

 

“Kaminari, please listen to what I’m saying. It’s not like that,” she said, practically pleading with him as she closed the distance and stepped forward. She would not drive him away, damn it. Jirou would help him understand and then she could figure it out and then they could figure out whatever this could be and then it would be okay. It had to be.

 

“Why’d you kiss me if you didn’t want this?” he said, eyes raised and meeting hers once more.

 

“Because, I-I--,” Jirou said, as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat and ignore the awful cold feeling in her sternum.

 

“Because you what?” Kaminari said, and she could see the vulnerability and sadness bleed through to Denki, not just Kaminari.

 

“Because, I wanted to pretend that for a moment, I was someone who deserved to be that happy. I wanted to pretend to be a happy girl swept off her feet by someone who loved her,” she said, her chest cold and tight.   

“Jirou, you don’t have to pretend. You deserve to be happy,” Kaminari said, tenderness mixing and mingling with the vulnerability still plain on his face.

 

“I do have pretend, for now. This isn’t a no, but this isn’t a yes, either. I’m sorry,” Jirou said, letting the weight of the world settle back onto her shoulders as she rested her hand along the side of Kaminari’s face.

 

Kaminari’s laugh was short and hollow, more of a bark than a laugh as he spoke.

 

“Alright.”

 

“I’m not gonna ask you to wait for me, Denki. I don’t even know what I’m gonna do yet. Just don’t forget about me, promise?” Jirou said, before dropping her hand and kissing Kaminari lightly on the cheek. Kaminari wrapped her up in his arms again in a tight hug, and in spite of herself, Jirou enjoyed the warmth and comfort that it still brought her.

 

“I’ll do whatever I can to help,” he said, voice quiet in her ear as everything about Kaminari enveloped her and Jirou felt the weight of the world lessen, if only a little bit.

 

“Also,” he said as they separated and Jirou saw his trademark grin return, “Feel free to kiss me or call me Denki whenever. Helps me know where we’re standing, ya know?”

 

Jirou rarely had an eye roll that she felt happy doing, but somehow this one wasn’t so bad. She punched him lightly on the arm as Kaminari feigned hurt.

 

“You’re incorrigible,” she said, her smile offset by the pit forming in her stomach.

 

Kaminari frowned and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he spoke, “Oh, uh, what should I tell Kirishima and Bakugou about this? I went to them to help figure out how to confess to you.”

 

Jirou rolled her eyes yet again as she spoke, “Of course you did. Just tell them that I said no. I’d rather not broadcast my issues to everybody in the class if I can help it.”

 

Kaminari nodded in agreement and said “Sure, no problem. Wanna talk about it more? I know this is some really heavy stuff, but do you think getting it out there a bit more would help? I’m more than happy to listen.”

 

Jirou shook her head slightly and jutted her head towards the door, “Nah, I’m kicking you out. I wanna sleep, dude. I’ll see you around.”

 

His shoulders fell imperceptibly but they rose back up in an instant as Kaminari spoke, “Yeah, of course. I’ll, uh, see you around.”

 

The door slammed shut, separating Kaminari and Jirou from one another. As soon as the door was closed, Kaminari’s posture fell and he slumped forward, staring at his feet. Kaminari blinked back tears as he meandered through the darkened hall, back to his own dorm. On his way back, he walked past the soaking and charred remains of his breakfast from that morning. He grabbed a bottle of dish soap from underneath the counter, and sprayed the pan with cyan-colored goop and began to scrape away the debris with a sponge. Bubbles rose and hot water flowed as he gently scrubbed the burned and blackened eggs from the bottom of the pan. Kaminari stared directly at the pan, trying his best to think of nothing but the pan. As he scrubbed and scrubbed, it became clear that there was a bit of burnt egg that flat-out refused to come out. Kaminari scrubbed and scrubbed until his arms were sore and his brow began to sweat, locked in a tense battle with this piece of too-crispy breakfast food. He was close to victory when he felt a familiar buzzing in his pocket.

 

deepestdope: thanks, kaminari. Sleep well.

 

Kaminari felt the tears in his eyes well up and he didn’t even bother trying to stifle them. They flowed as easily as the water, tiny droplets crashing against the inside of dirty piece of cookware.

 

“The fuck are you crying for? You knew you weren’t good enough,” Kaminari murmured.

 

Jirou stared up at her ceiling like oh so many nights before, angry at the universe, the world, and of course, herself. Of course she couldn’t let herself be happy. Of course she couldn’t just throw caution to the wind and live a little. Of course Jirou couldn’t just be a normal person and not let her bullshit affect her. Of course things couldn’t be easy. Things always had be complicated and awful and layered with implications and bullshit. She wanted to scream and throw things and punch holes in the wall because by fucking god things just couldn’t work out okay for her. Instead, Jirou lay there, staring up at the ceiling and letting the coldness in her chest pull her under. It swallowed up everything and turned the soft honey eyes into nothing more than a fleeting candle in a rainstorm. This was the way things were. She picked up her phone, and stared at the text box to Kaminari. She wanted to apologize, to tell him that she was sorry that she couldn’t be simpler, to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, and that she wanted to live forever in that moment with him, but Jirou knew that lead to confusion and complication, and settled on ‘thanks,’ instead.

 

deepestdope: thanks, kaminari. Sleep well.

 

With the text sent, Jirou popped in both her earbuds and queued up a song and curled into a ball at the foot of her bed, clutching a pillow. The music crackled in the earbuds as it started to play and a familiar voice came through.

 

Fly me to the moon

Let me play among the stars

Notes:

Hey there! I managed to upload on time this week. I'm a huge sucker for Frank Sinatra and next week, we are out of the dorms and into the summer. Please leave any and all comments down below. Kudos and comments are always super, super appreciated and I'll do my best to respond to everyone.

Chapter 5: Smile

The sound of a sharp crack against the window shocked Kaminari awake. Something small and hard had just bounced off of the window to his room. His eyes snapped open and he felt electricity start somewhere in his forearms and start to seep out before he felt something stir next to his chest. He was at home, in bed, and was with something .  A shock of purple hair was nestled against him, and it peered up at him with tired, questioning eyes. It was something warm and comforting; pleasant, even.   

 

“Jirou?” Kaminari asked, hardly believing his eyes.

 

“Hey there, Jammingway,” she replied, smoothly and easily as Kaminari felt his breath catch in his throat. It was her, no doubt about it. It was her lips and her eyes and her smile; the same smile that made Kaminari feel like he’d found his place in the world the moment he saw it.

 

Kaminari chuckled softly as his eyes met Jirou’s and he said, ”This better real, or I’m gonna wake up super pissed off.”

 

Jirou smiled up at him for a moment, before leaning forward and placing her lips on his, just like that night. Her lips were still just as warm and soft as they were that night and Kaminari swore he could feel himself rise up out of bed and fly. She was his and he was hers and everything was okay. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d been able to make her laugh and smile and forget about the world, just like he’d always been able to. Jirou pulled back from Kaminari and laughed lightly and easily. This was the way things were. This was the way things were supposed to be. Jirou snuggled in closer to him and Kaminari felt at peace.

 

Another crack sounded against the window and that peace was quickly wiped away, as soon as it had come. Kaminari felt the storm buck and kick inside of him, ready for a fight, but nothing had changed. Jirou was still there. It was still his room. Maybe there was a particularly enthusiastic bird trying to get in, and that was that.

 

Jirou met his eyes and said, “This could’ve been real,” her tone cold and quiet.

 

Kaminari felt that same ice in his chest; the same one that had stopped him from saying all the things he should’ve and doing all the things he knew he could’ve for Jirou.

 

Nonetheless, Jirou smiled back up at him but the warmth had been drained away. Jirou just looked disappointed, not sad. It almost seemed like she was pitying him.  

 

Kaminari stared down and her and replied, “What did you say?”

 

Jirou’s face fell and nothing could hide her disappointment as she responded, “I wish you could’ve helped me, Kaminari.”

 

The ice swallowed Kaminari and everything felt cold and dead and withered as he managed to stutter out a “What?” This couldn’t be happening again. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d made her happy enough that she’d forgotten about her problems, right? He’d done the right thing and his love and his feelings had been enough for her to trust him; enough for her to be with him.

 

Kaminari felt the ice seep down, down into his feet and down his fingertips. Silent tears flowed from Jirou’s eyes as she stared at him, quietly and sadly, and said, “Why couldn’t you make me smile, Denki?”

 

There was a sharp crack against Kaminari’s window and Kaminari sat straight up in bed, for real this time. It was his room, and he was alone. It had been two weeks since he had moved out of the dorms and back home for the summer. Two opened suitcases, filled with clothes, lay at the foot of his bed. His room was bare. It was stark, empty and cold. He’d hooked his video game console up to the small television in his room, but had done precious little else. His posters were still in their tubes, and his bean bag chair poked out of the top of a still packed cardboard box. Kaminari slid out of bed and pulled up the shade, flooding his room with light. There, he easily identified the source of the cracks.

 

Below Kaminari’s window were Sero, Mina, and Kirishima, and from the looks of it, the rocks had been Mina’s idea. Kaminari pushed open the window and stared down at his friends. Sero and Kirishima were bickering about something, and Mina was winding up to throw a fourth rock from Kaminari’s driveway at his window. Mina also appeared to be arguing with Sero and Kirishima and had not yet noticed that Kaminari had opened his window, which was probably not a good sign. Kaminari was confused. It wasn’t his normal confusion, which really only showed up on tests and essays, but more of a concrete, real confusion about why in the absolute fuck his friends were throwing rocks at his home at 1 in the afternoon.

 

“Mina! What the hell are you doing!?” Kaminari yelled as Mina jumped in surprise and threw the fourth rock anyway. Kaminari heard Aizawa scream, “DUCK, MORON” in his head as he dropped to his knees, using the windowsill as cover as the rock cracked against the side of his house. Kaminari popped back up to stare, incredulously, at Mina as Kirishima and Sero both howled with laughter at Kaminari’s perplexed expression.

 

Mina waved at Kaminari as she yelled from the street, “Hey Kaminari! Can you let us in? My arm’s getting tired.”

 

“Why are you throwing rocks at my house?!” Kaminari yelled back.

 

Sero took over, elbowing past Mina to yell, “Let us in, sad sack! We wanna see you.”

 

Kaminari, in distinctly Jirou-like fashion, rolled his eyes and made his way downstairs and let his motley group of friends collectively drift inside, bickering over absolutely nothing, as they always did. Mina, as soon as the door opened, practically tackled Kaminari, hugging him tight as the strong smell of bubblegum wafted past his nose and yelled something that sounded like “OHMYGODKAMINARIIMISSEDYOU” and ended up trailing off into gibberish. Kirishima and Sero, meanwhile, were still locked in a tense debate over something, likely trivial.

 

Sero leaned down to untie his shoes, maintaining his conversation with Kirishima as he said, “I’m telling you. The Wallachia Accords were about supernatural threats and the Sokovia Accords are about foreign intervention and secret identities. We had like, a week of classes on this, man. I know I’m right.”

 

Kirishima looked positively ruffled as he spoke. “Nah, there’s no way. Me and Bakugou were up until four studying that stuff. And more importantly, I can’t get a C in that class. My mom will kill me.”

 

Kaminari unhooked Mina from himself and vaguely recalled the history final that Sero and Kirishima were bickering about. Kaminari found himself quietly, desperately, hoping that maybe they were both wrong, and that Kaminari hadn’t written four pages on the Reiko Accords for nothing.

 

Kaminari smiled at the sight of his friends and said, “Can I get you guys something to drink or whatever?”

 

Kirishima nodded enthusiastically. “Dehydration’s more dangerous than half the villians in the League, dude. Grab me some water.”

 

Sero rolled his eyes and grinned at Kaminari. “A martini. Make it shaken, not stirred.”

 

Mina was less than amused by Sero and punched him on the arm, hard. Sero doubled over in pain, miming serious injury as Mina said, “Don’t worry about us, Kaminari. How are you doing?”

 

The gang filed into Kaminari’s kitchen and placed themselves at seats around the island in the center. Kaminari laughed as he filled up a tall frosted glass of water for Kirishima, the water flowing easily as he said, “I mean, short of some rocks being thrown my way, I’m fine. Why are you guys here?”

 

Mina’s dark eyes narrowed at Kaminari as Kirishima began to inhale his glass of water like a man dying of thirst.

 

Kaminari grinned and jutted his head towards Kirishima and said, “Also, why are you worrying about me and not the dude about to drown on dry land next to you?”

 

Mina’s eyes watched Kaminari closely as Kirishima tilted the glass further and further back. Sero returned Kaminari’s grin in kind and gestured at him. “Bartender, I did say a martini. Now there’s no way you’re getting a tip.”

 

For the briefest of moments, Kaminari’s face fell and he felt his chest freeze over again at the the word “tip” but he quickly laughed it off. Sero certainly hadn’t noticed and Kirishima was still polishing off the last dregs of his glass of water. Mina, however, was a different story.

 

“You know why we’re here, Kaminari,” Mina said gently, her features soft and empathetic. Sero and Kirishima, upon hearing her, both nodded, their faces now a great deal more somber.

 

“Because Bakugou got out of the yard without a leash again? I know he’s housebroken and all but at some point you guys gotta fence in that yard,” Kaminari quipped, not meeting any of their eyes.

 

Kirishima snickered but two stony glances from Sero and Mina told both Kirishima and Kaminari that the time for comedy routines had passed.

 

“Kaminari, it’s been two weeks since classes ended and you haven’t left the house since we got back,” Sero explained, turning over a salt shaker in his hands.

 

Mina nodded in assent and said, “It feels like you’ve been avoiding us, Kami. The only reason we know you’re even alive is because Kirishima sees you playing video games online sometimes. And now that we can see you in person, lemme tell ya: you’ve got some serious sad alcoholic stubble going on. ”

 

Kirishima rubbed a spot on the inside of the glass, not meeting Kaminari’s eyes as he spoke. “We know things didn’t go well with Jirou from Yaomomo, but I guess that much is obvious, anyway. We don’t care about what happened, man. We’re just really worried about you.”

 

Kaminari let out a fake laugh and smiled, desperately trying to reel back the conversation and said, “This has gotta be the most roundabout way of getting me to help find Bakugou. I’ve got a spare leash upstairs but--”

 

Mina cut him off and said, “Even Bakugou’s worried about you, Kami.”

 

Kaminari’s million-watt smile dimmed as he flatly asked, “he’s what ?”

 

Kirishima was still trying to rub out the same spot on his glass as he replied, “We asked him to come over with us, but Bakugou said that he knew he’d make things worse. It’s not even just our little group, dude. Iida and Midoriya have been asking about both you and Jirou. Even Tokoyami’s been weirdly curious about how you’ve been doing.”

 

Kaminari did his best to mask the tautness in his throat as he shrugged and said, “I’m fine, you guys. I’m just relaxing alone for a little bit and then I’ll be down to do whatever.”

 

Sero met Kaminari’s stare and Kaminari felt Sero look straight through him as he stated, “I don’t wanna be a dick, but have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately, Kaminari? You don’t exactly look relaxed.”

 

Kaminari started to stutter out, “What’s that supposed to mea--” but

before Kaminari could react, Mina took a picture of him using her phone. Mina, without saying a word, held up the image to Kaminari and he soaked it in. Staring back at him was a wreck of a human being. Kaminari’s face was covered in patchy blonde stubble. The bags under his eyes were so huge that it almost looked like Kaminari was wearing the world’s worst eyeliner. His hair was a tangled, messy rat’s nest. Kaminari was still in his pyjamas, which were an old and ratty pair of sweatpants and grimy looking t-shirt. But what really stood out to Kaminari were his eyes. They seemed fractured, like something in the person behind them had cracked. They were bright bloodshot red.

 

“Oh,” Kaminari said, in a small voice.

 

Mina’s face was awash with with concern as she said tenderly, “Can you tell us what happened?”

 

Kirishima finally placed down the glass, spot apparently rubbed out and said, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to but, um, we are curious.”

 

Kaminari took in a deep breath and tried not to think about the man in the picture on Mina’s phone, suddenly cognisant of just how greasy his hair and skin were.

 

“I told her how I felt, straight up. I got, like, kind of dressed up and I danced with her to Frank Sinatra while I told her that I loved her and loved making her smile and stuff. And then, the music died down and she leaned in and kissed me” he said, before Mina cut him off again.

 

“Awww, Kaminari. What went wrong?” Mina said, her head tilted to one side.

 

Kaminari’s face fell as he said, “Then Jirou told me that she couldn’t be with me because she hated herself too much and that me loving her wasn’t enough for us to be together.”

 

Sero sucked in air through his teeth as Kirishima and Mina both made apologetic sounds and said, “Jesus Christ, dude. Why’d she kiss you, though?”

 

Kaminari shrugged sadly and said, “I dunno. She said something about wanting to pretend to be happy and letting someone that she liked sweep her off her feet, even if it wasn’t real. Jirou asked me to like, not forget about her and stuff. ”

 

Mina’s dark eyes met Kaminari’s tired ones as she said, “Kaminari, that could’ve gone a lot worse. What’s really got you so down?”

 

Kirishima nodded in agreement and said, “I think Jirou’s making the right call, man. Plus, if she wanted to shut you down, she would’ve. What’s up with you, dude?”

 

Kaminari swallowed the lump in his throat as he said, “I don’t think you guys would get it.”

 

Sero rolled his eyes and spoke. “Who are we? Your parents? Come on, Kaminari.”

 

Kaminari shook his head vehemently and said, “Don’t worry about it. I’m just all messed up cause I know she likes me and we can’t be together. That’s it.”

 

His friends were all clearly less than convinced, but seemed to collectively put it aside. The rest of the afternoon was spent helping Kaminari look a little bit more human than he did before. A shave and a shower were the first steps into a state a bit less hobo-esque for Kaminari, followed by a load of laundry with some help from his friends. Sero helped him move all of his clothes to the dryer while Mina and Kirishima unloaded the rest of Kaminari’s things from the suitcases, under Mina’s careful eye for interior design. The argument over the test reared its ugly head once more, but oddly enough, no one seemed to want to look up the right answer. Kaminari threw together some macaroni and cheese for lunch, and did his best to explain how to make a proper cheese sauce to Kirishima while Sero and Mina contributed by arguing over what movie to watch in the next room. A dropped plate and a singed shirt sleeve later, Kaminari found himself, like many lazy afternoons before, draped over his couch with his friends, watching something stupid and eating something that made his arteries pick out funeral homes. It felt, well, normal.

 

“Oh, oh, right here! There’s this awesome bit coming up,” Kirishima gestured from somewhere under the tangled mess of people laying across Kaminari’s couch as the giant robot on screen emptied a plasma cannon into the dying monster.

 

“Kirishima, don’t do that thing where you watch our reactions instead of the thing that you’re excited for,” Sero said, currently upside down on the couch.

 

Kirishima pouted and tried to cross his arms. “I wasn’t!”

 

Mina and Kaminari laughed and Kaminari felt the knot inside of him loosen a little.

 

“Don’t even deny it, dude. I saw you peeking over at me as soon as the mech started using shipping containers as brass knuckles,” Kaminari said.

 

Kirishima forced out an anguished whisper and said, “But think about how fucking cool the words you just said are, Kaminari. How am I not gonna try to see how you react?”

 

Mina waved her hand at the squabbling boys in an attempt to quiet them down and said, “Eh, eh. Be quiet, things are happening.”

 

Kaminari watched as the music swelled and the mech stood before the second flying monster, wielding an entire cargo ship as a baseball bat, dragging the boat behind itself as it closed the gap between them. The mech, with gears creaking, brought the boat up in front of itself, holding the ship as a giant makeshift sword. The monster roared and rushed at the mech, as it swung the boat forward and slammed into the massive beast.

 

“DUDE, HOLY SHIT,” Kaminari yelled, “THAT’S SO COOL!”

A muffled “I KNOW, RIGHT!” came from under Mina’s left elbow, which Kaminari assumed was Kirishima, before Mina nudged Kirishima in the face to shut him up.

 

The afternoon bled into the evening, but as the movie died down and the sun started to fall, Kaminari still found himself in the same strange weird pile of friends on a couch and, frankly,  he was okay with that. Between the heavy, rich food and the dim light, just about everyone on the couch had drifted off to sleep. Kirishima had his neck bent at an angle that shouldn’t have been possible in nature underneath Mina, who, in her sleep, appeared to have the goal of taking up as much space as humanly possible on a couch. Sero was snoring, head hanging off of the couch and a small, thin line of drool attached itself to the hardwood floor below. Kaminari felt his eyes grow heavy as a yawn climbed its way out of his throat.

 

The cold still remained, bitter and painful in his chest, but Kaminari found himself not caring. He couldn’t, not right now. His friends weren’t Jirou, but he knew they weren’t trying to be. They were just trying to help him as best they could, and quite frankly, they did a pretty damn good job of it, even Bakugou. But as sleep took him into its warm and heavy embrace, Kaminari found himself thinking of her, the same as every other time he had closed his eyes those past two weeks. In that short moment before he drifted off to sleep, Kaminari let himself pretend that the warmth from all the people on his little green couch was actually from someone else, and that he, too, was somewhere else; somewhere far away from school and confusing feelings and sadness and loneliness. Somewhere else was peaceful and quiet. Somewhere else was a clean bed with white linen sheets that Kaminari had never slept in, with Jirou curled up next to him, breathing softly. In the moments before sleep washed over him, Kaminari smiled.

Notes:

Hey, I'm really sorry about the late update to this chapter. I spent most of last week traveling and I didn't have as much time to work on this fic as I wanted to. Next week is all Jirou and Momo and Tsu. I hope y'all enjoyed reading this. Comments, kudos and critiques are always appreciated!

Chapter 6: Fine Girl

The steel shutters of the storefront rattled as Jirou pulled them down over the storefront, standing on the very tips of her toes to reach the handle at the base of the shutters. The asphalt beneath her feet was still warm from the day’s sun, and the sky was a stunning mix of reddish-orange purples cascading over the falling light of the sun. In the distance, Jirou heard the ringing of a bicycle bell and the mumble of conversation. Every day for the past two weeks she’d worked overtime shifts just so she could be the last person in the store when it all closed down. Closing was her favorite time of day. It wasn’t because she hated her job, necessarily, Jirou just enjoyed the quiet of the evenings. She’d worked there part time in summers past, but this summer, she had hit the ground running as soon as she could. Jirou barely had even had time to unpack or see her friends, thanks to her job. Jirou got to be around music and occasionally help people find things they’d never heard of at a record store, which was nice. What was less than nice were the various creeps that tended to flit through the store and press their taste in music upon Jirou. It was always “so interesting” that she was a girl who listened to things that weren’t pop. The music they made always had “soul” and “emotion” behind it and Jirou could always “check it out, you know, if she wanted to” because she seemed like she would “get it” in a way that other girls didn’t. Soul and emotion were funny names for Oedipus complexes and entitlement issues but it was always easier to clam up and just smile and nod as the latest hipster dickhead tried to impress Jirou with his skillful acoustic renditions of Wonderwall and Day Tripper.  

 

But Jirou was happy, thank you very much. This was a good job, with good pay, good hours and a good boss. “CHUNK” went the shutter as it caught something on the way down. Jirou frowned.

Jirou raised the shutter slightly and then pushed it down. “CHUNK” went the shutter again, causing a scowl to splinter across Jirou’s face. Jirou pushed the shutter down a third time, and was, of course, rewarded with another loud “CHUNK.”

 

“Sonofabitch,” Jirou murmured angrily to herself. Maybe happy wasn’t the right word for it. Jirou was satisfied with where she was. Sure, she hadn’t seen her friends in a while and the thing with Kaminari was still a thing but she was making money and that was good. She was writing more music and playing more guitar than she had in months, which was good. Jirou had also spent more money on Red Bull than she had in months, which was bad, but still. Satisfied wasn’t the right word for it. Jirou was where she was, and that was that. “CHUNK” groaned the shutter as Jirou slammed the shutter down harder.

 

“I swear to God, if this fucking thing--” Jirou said, as she slammed the shutter down as hard as she could, which thankfully clanged into place, and finally, Jirou could start the walk home. With a deep breath and her earbuds in, she could finally relax. A meaty baseline and a soft trumpet filled her ears as she made her way down the street, sun at her back. Jirou saw her shadow stretch out in front of her, all the way down the empty street and watched it follow her and mirror her every move as she drifted with the music. The sun dipped further and further until the night swallowed the day and the streetlights clicked on, one by one in front of her. Jirou drifted further and further into the night, entranced by the song, the night, and the surreal emptiness of it all until her phone buzzed in her pocket.

yaomomo.923: turn around! :)

 

deepestdope: this is easily the most threatening message I’ve ever received.

 

Jirou turned around to see Tsu and Yaomomo at the top of the hill behind her, waving excitedly at Jirou. Well, the walk would be more exciting now, at the very least. Yaomomo greeted Jirou as she always did, with a hug and a bright smile that could power a country. Tsu, as always, was content with a simple wave and a much quieter smile. Then, predictably and unfortunately, the questions began.

 

“It’s so good to see you, Jirou! We’ve been by your house a couple of times but your dad just said that you were doing something else. What’s kept you so busy?” Yaomomo inquired, eyes wide.

 

Jirou flatly stared at Yaomomo and Tsu for a moment. “Work and music, honestly. Nothing super dramatic or anything like that.”

 

“Oh,” Yaomomo’s smile faltered, “Are you sure? Because we’ve been really worried about you.”

 

Tsuyu nodded in agreement, her eyes flitting from Yaomomo to Jirou, betraying very little. Jirou liked Tsu. Tsu didn't screw around or have time for stupid formalities, but had a good, kind heart nonetheless, which normally Jirou appreciated. However, Jirou caught the distinct feeling that she was going to appreciate Tsu's bluntness a hell of a lot less very soon.

 

Jirou scowled and then--

 

“And then I told Yaomomo that she’d never understand as our class’s perfect trust fund princess after she kept asking me if I had talked to anyone about my issues yet and Tsu told me I was out of line and so I stormed off without them and now I feel terrible because I snapped at them and I already drove one of my best friends already with my crap and now I did it again,” Jirou finished, as her dad fiddled with the back of an amp.

 

Jirou’s dad straightened his back with an audible crack as he turned and regarded her, streaks of grey running through his long brown hair. Jirou had settled into one of the chairs in her dad’s makeshift studio in their basement while her dad was fixing some of the audio equipment and had taken the opportunity to vent about her various failings. Various bits and bobs of musical equipment littered the floor around her, as Jirou found herself staring up at the ceiling.

 

“Pumpkin, you didn’t drive them away because of your issues,” Jirou’s father said with a sigh.

 

Jirou’s eyes narrowed. “Really? Have your ears gotten that ba--”

 

Jirou’s dad laughed lightly. “No, my ears haven’t gotten that bad. You tried to drive them away with your issues. Big difference.”

 

“How do you know?” Jirou questioned, indignant and irritated.

 

Jirou’s dad sighed again, heavier this time. “Because, pumpkin, they’ve come by here every other day since school let out.”

 

Jirou crossed her arms. “So? Tsu said I crossed a line, didn’t she?”

 

Jirou’s dad let out a long yawn, stretching his arms out to the sky. “Well, then I guess you won’t know unless you apologize, plain and simple.”

 

“Plus, you could finally stop pretending that nothing happened with Kaminari.” Jirou’s dad didn’t meet Jirou’s eyes, but the words slipped out of him with a sly smile.

 

Something white-hot and angry coursed through Jirou as she stood up and moved to walk out of the room. Jirou marched through the living room and up the stairs, her hard stomps shaking the steps beneath her as she reached the door to her room. The door slammed against its hinges and Jirou plopped down on her bed, staring at the ceiling as she waited for the knock. Sure enough, she heard the slower, heavier plodding of her father as he made his way up the stairs and to her door, clicking it open and stepping into her room. He settled at the foot of her bed, leaning back onto his arms and staring up at the ceiling with her.

 

“Do you want to talk about it, then?” Her dad’s tone was cautious and reproachful.

 

Jirou stared, unblinkingly, up at the ceiling. “So you can make fun of me more?”

 

Jirou’s dad sighed. “I’m not making fun of you. I’m just telling you to have a little more trust in your friends.”

 

Jirou’s brow furrowed. “How is this about faith or trust or whatever? I already told you what--”

 

“Because you’re gonna get stuck in an endless loop of bullshit if you don’t believe that they actually like you.” Jirou’s dad’s voice was piercing.

 

“Your brain tricks you into thinking that all of these things that people like about you; these things that make you who you are, are just annoyances or flaws and that anyone who appreciates them is lying through their teeth, kiddo. You become so convinced that everything about you is awful that when people do try to actually help, you're already convinced that you don’t deserve it and you push them away.” Her dad’s eyes glazed over, glassy and still.

 

"From there, all you have to do is just see that your friends left and just like that, everything negative in your head finally has some truth to it. And then you sit there, alone, sad, and bitter, because you couldn’t take that first step and just trust the people that love you. ” Jirou’s dad’s eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling but Jirou could tell he was looking beyond the ceiling, beyond the roof of their house and into a whole other world, all while he quietly sat next to his daughter.

 

Jirou found herself near speechless, and asked for the second time, “How do you know?”

 

Jirou’s dad gave a soft, rueful smile. “Because, kiddo, some things just run in the family. I’m more of a Type A personality and you take after your mom, but I get it. I get this stuff, and as somebody who lost a lot of people because it took me a while to get it, I won’t let that to happen to you.”

 

Jirou sat there, silently staring up at the ceiling with her father, and felt something click inside of her. Maybe it was recognition; maybe it was knowing that she wasn’t alone, but regardless, a part of Jirou felt something slat into place within her. Sure, she didn’t have a plan. She didn’t have a list, or even a place to start. But Jirou wasn’t alone, and that was what mattered. She had people. She had a support system. And most importantly, Jirou finally knew, really and truly knew, what she was up against. Jirou leaned over and hugged her dad tight, the smell of oil and wood bleeding together and making Jirou feel like she was 5 years, hell, 10 years younger than she was as her dad hugged her back.

 

Jirou softly murmured, “Thanks, Dad,” into the crook of his shoulder.

 

His smile was brighter now as he looked down at Jirou. “I’ll go get us some ice cream.”

 

Jirou broke the hug, staring blankly back at him. “What?”

 

The smile stayed the same, plain on his face. “You’ve had a shitty day and as long as you’re still listening to me, no day can’t be improved by ice cream.”

 

Jirou’s dad stood up and moved towards the door as a smile broke across Jirou’s face to match her father’s. “Meet me back downstairs in the basement, okay?”

 

And so, Jirou found herself swallowed up by the warm leather couches of her dad’s studio, with a huge bowl of chocolate chip ice cream in her lap as her father crouched over his box of records, flitting through them with his tongue jutting out of the side of his lip. They made an odd pair, Jirou in her work clothes and her dad in his most stylish band shirt and jeans.

 

“Looking Glass?” Jirou’s dad’s eyes flitted up to Jirou, as she carefully spooned ice cream into her mouth from the bowl, savoring the sweet if slightly artificial taste of the ice cream. Her father held up the album, a monument to the corniest music of the early 70’s.

 

Jirou rolled her eyes. “ Dad. I thought you were trying to make me feel better, not worse.”

 

“Brandy is a downright therapeutic song, pumpkin.” He frowned. “And at least it’s not disco.”

 

Jirou scoffed loudly, the bowl of ice cream perched precariously on her stomach. “This is why I have better taste than you do.”

 

“Please, the student has yet to become the master, young grasshopper,” Jirou’s dad said as he slid the Looking Glass record out of its jacket and into his hands and Jirou focused on fitting as much ice cream as humanly possible into her mouth.

 

“Way to double dip on the references, Dad. You can’t just throw Star Wars and the Karate Kid together.” Jirou’s spoon clinked against the inside of the bowl as her Dad flipped open a record player and placed the record in it with a satisfying “click.”

 

“Guess that means I’m a rebel, huh?” Jirou’s father’s wink elicited another quick eye roll from his daughter.

 

“You're rebel scum, Dad,” Jirou deadpanned as her dad mimed offense and the record scratched for a moment as the opening notes of Brandy filled the basement. The cheesy crooning of the singer, helpfully accompanied her father’s surprisingly on-key singing as he collapsed onto the couch alongside Jirou, stopping only to protest that she had already eaten half the ice cream. The two of them sat there for a minute, her father continuing to croon in time with the singer as Jirou sat, absorbing the atmosphere of the room until she felt the pull. It took almost until the very end of the song, but despite herself, Jirou let herself relax.

 

Almost automatically, without even thinking, Jirou found the words pulling themselves out of her mouth, in time with her father and Looking Glass. “ She hears him say "Brandy, you're a fine girl."

 

Jirou glanced at her father, his eyes a million miles away once again, but different from before. They weren’t melancholy this time, instead they were tinged with nostalgia as the edges of eyes crinkled and a small smile formed on his lips. “ What a good wife you would be ," they sang together.

 

With the taste of sweet cream and chocolate on Jirou’s lips, a corny song in her heart, and her father’s singing, something inside of Jirou shifted. “ But my life, my lover, my lady is the sea ," Jirou and her father finished, settling into the newfound stillness of the basement.

 

Jirou glanced over at her father, now enjoying the bowl of ice cream with his own spoon. “Dad, I hate to break it to you, but how is that therapeutic?”

 

Her father looked confused as he savored the ice cream. “What do you mean? It’s a relatable, tragic song.”

 

Jirou began gesturing with her hands and the spoon, accidentally putting flecks of ice cream on her dad’s old jeans. “What’s tragic about it? Brandy’s an idiot who won’t move on, plain and simple.”

 

Her dad’s eyes widened. “But that’s not what the song’s about. It’s not about Brandy. It’s about the tragedy of the sailor.”

 

Jirou peered at her dad, searching for a hint of sarcasm in his face and found none.

 

“The sailor keeps getting pulled back by the sea when he doesn’t have to. It’s tragic because he can’t move past this big ol’ nebulous struggle despite the perfect person in front of him. All he knows is the sea, and he goes back to it, missing out on the life they both truly wanted.” Jirou’s dad did some gesturing of his own with his spoon.

 

Jirou felt cold, and not because of the ice cream. “Oh.”

 

Jirou’s dad gave her a sad little smile. “Yeah.”

 

His eyes brightened. “But the whole point is that the sailor never has to leave for the ocean.There’s a choice. Why not bring Brandy with him? Why not let Brandy help him? The sea doesn't have to be a one person job.”

 

Jirou smiled, warmly, for the first time in a long time. “I didn’t think about it like that.”

 

Her father’s smile widened considerably. “See, sometimes your old man is onto something. Let’s find something else to listen to.”

 

The early evening bled into the night and before long Jirou and her father had revisited half the albums in his collection, from Dylan to Hendrix to so many others. Eventually, the music blurred together as the heaviness of the ice cream, the softness of the couch and the sound of the music lulled Jirou to sleep, as her father placed a blanket over her.

 

“I love you, Dad,” Jirou murmured as her father placed a quick kiss on her forehead, drifting off into heavy sleep.

 

“Love you too,” he quietly replied as he walked up the stairs from the basement and into the living room, where his wife waited, filling out a crossword on the couch. Jirou’s mother squinted through her glasses at it as her husband came up from behind the couch and kissed her gently on the top of her head.

 

Jirou’s mother smiled and turned to face him. “Hey, sailor.” Jirou's dad offered a hand to his wife, helping her up from the couch as the two of them walked together up the stairs and to the second floor, until their bedroom door shut with a heavy thud.

Notes:

It's been too long, y'all! I've had some work issues as well as family issues, mixed in with a good dosage of the holidays that made this break a bit longer than I promised. I'm really sorry. Biweekly updates will resume, and I hoped y'all enjoyed reading.

Chapter 7: If It Ain't Broke

The raspy cries of cicadas filled Kaminari’s ears as his bicycle wheels scuffed against the street beneath him. The cool wind buffered his face, helping fight the sweltering sun beating down on him as he raced down city streets, shooting past vendors selling kitschy tourist crap and mouth-watering food. Something loud, fast, and bass-heavy thudded along in Kaminari’s earbuds. The heavy bag on his back made some of the turns a bit more risky, but damn it all, Kaminari wanted speed. In that sense, food delivery fit Kaminari well. The pay was garbage, his boss was a man who took sandwiches more seriously than Aizawa took combat training, and he had to bring his own bike, but it kept him moving. And to be fair, they were very good sandwiches. Movement, however, kept him from worrying and wallowing. Kaminari had spent the first two weeks of his summer laying around and feeling sorry for himself and Kaminari was done with that. More specifically, his parents and his friends were done with that. Kaminari could very easily have seen himself wallowing for at least another week, but clearly everyone had very different standards for AWT (Allowed Wallowing Time) than he did.

Kaminari had a delivery to make. Specifically, to his high school, which made not thinking about Jirou a special kind of difficult but he would be fine. Things would be fine. Kaminari was fine. Kaminari was not absolutely petrified of walking into one of his classrooms and immediately thinking about Jirou again, no sir. Kaminari hadn’t recognized the name on the order, which didn’t surprise him, but he had been surprised by the double order of Fire Engines, one of their more popular sandwiches. The Fire Engine had juicy and flavorful roast beef covered by crispy fried onions and bacon, with a layer of soft, salty cheese draped over it on a perfect pretzel roll. Kaminari’s stomach grumbled angrily underneath him at the sheer injustice of it all. Personally, Kaminari couldn’t quite afford the sandwiches he delivered but that hadn’t stopped him from drooling whenever he caught sight of them and the fact that he hadn’t taken his lunch break only made things worse. All the same, Kaminari reached the imposing front gate of UA and waved hi to the guard as he slid his UA I.D. into the card reader, clicking it open with a short flash of green.

The breeze picked up again as Kaminari clicked his bike into the magnetic lock on the bike rack outside of the front doors. Kaminari smiled at the sight of the magnetic lock. While the locks were almost impossible to bypass by sheer force alone, the right level of electrical current deactivated them quickly enough. As such, if two enterprising young pranksters wished to “borrow” a bicycle belonging to an explosive-tempered classmate and “friend,” and attach it to the roof of the dorms with tape, they absolutely could. And they had. Bakugou had been furious, and Aizawa had dragged the entire class outside and lectured them that the pranksters must come forward and that Bakugou’s bike must be found, immediately. The entire class had stared, dumbfoundedly at the bike hung from the massive “1-A Alliance” sign directly behind them, while Kaminari, Sero, and Jirou choked with laughter and Bakugou and Aizawa remained oblivious to the missing bike directly behind them. To be fair, Kaminari wouldn’t have had to do that if Jirou hadn’t been sad about messing up an essay. Making her laugh was worth a detention and a screaming fit from Bakugou. It was the least he could do. It was the only thing he could do.

Kaminari was the class clown, and he knew that. Bakugou and Kirishima were better fighters, Deku was a better field leader, and everyone was smarter than he was. And yet, when Kaminari made people laugh and smile, he knew he had something. He had a thing. He was good at his thing. Without that ability to make people, especially the people he loved, smile, Kaminari didn’t have much. Normally, that didn’t bother him. It was the way things were, but when it came to Jirou, he had just felt so useless. He should’ve been able to help her more and fix her problems. Kaminari’s face fell quickly. No. He wouldn’t fall to pieces right now. He had a sandwich to deliver and a lunch break to take and then he could fall apart in his spare time.

Without even thinking about it, Kaminari had reached the teacher’s lounge, and he creaked the door slowly open and entered. Sipping from a ludicrously tiny cup of tea was All Might, as Kaminari internally kicked himself for not remembering who “Yagi” must have been and sheepishly walked towards him.

“Hey, uh, All Might? Did you order a sandwich?” Kaminari struggled to mask his nervousness. Sure, he saw him during homeroom from time to time, but that wasn’t one-on-one. He was now face-to-face with the greatest hero of his lifetime, which wasn’t stressful at all, no sir.   

The sunken blue eyes of All Might flashed as they landed on Kaminari. “Of course, young Kaminari! How has your summer been?”

Kaminari took in the bent, spindly form of the man before him. Kaminari, just like everyone else, had seen his raw power and strength in countless battles and All Might’s infinite compassion during his rescues. He was as heroic as the day was long, but Kaminari had never really taken in how old he looked. Well, old wasn’t the right word, Kaminari figured. All Might looked weathered. All Might reminded Kaminari of an old oak tree, pockmarked with scratches and gouges after countless cold winters and sweltering summers, but still standing tall with all of the souvenirs of its advanced age. Kaminari drank in the rest of the more subtle details of the man who stood before him. His nose was crooked from a break years past, some of his fingers were slightly bent at odd angles, and Kaminari could barely make out the traces of something through All Might’s white shirt that ravaged much of his midsection. And looking at him, Kaminari felt something like melancholy. It wasn’t cold or aggressive in his chest, but Kaminari could feel his heart dip slightly as he watched the hero of heroes’ hands quake as Kaminari handed him a brown paper bag with his sandwiches.

“Uh, not too badly. Just been working and stuff mostly. How’ve you been?” Kaminari raked his hands through his hair, matting it at the back.

All Might gave a wide smile. “Excellent! Not everyone can be a hero, and non-hero work can give an important perspective into how other people live, Young Kaminari.”

Kaminari gave a short, quick laugh. “Yeah, but I’d still much rather be zapping villains. Iida got almost as lucky this summer as Tokoyami did with that internship in Morioh last summer, from the way he talks about it.”

All Might’s face scrunched slightly as he removed the sandwiches. “I seem to have been given two sandwiches by accident.”

As if on cue, Kaminari’s stomach angrily grumbled at him. A light smile danced across All Might’s weathered face. “Why don’t you join me for lunch, young Kaminari? I can hardly finish two of these by myself.”

Kaminari returned the smile gratefully. “Thanks, All Might.”

---

 

The sandwich was even better than he ever could have dreamed, and while sitting in the courtyard of the Heights Alliance with All Might was deeply surreal, Kaminari felt peaceful. The conversation was light and easy, but as the sun dipped from the peak of high noon into the more muted light of the afternoon, a question was burying itself deeper and deeper into Kaminari’s mind.

“And believe it or not, Best Jeanist still won’t let me bring food to his cookouts anymore!” All Might’s laugh had the loud, deep bass of a cannon shot, as it rang through the air.

Kaminari laughed, but that faded into a strained smile. All Might’s eyes flashed with concern, and he placed a supportive hand on Kaminari’s shoulder.

“Young Kaminari, what’s troubling you?” His eyes were a sharp, perceptive turquoise. “I may not be your homeroom teacher, but I know when you’re not being yourself.”

Kaminari swallowed the lump in his throat and concentrated on an incredibly interesting bush at the edge of the courtyard. “How do you--What do you do when you can’t make someone smile?”

Kaminari expected a laugh, but All Might regarded him reproachfully. “What do you mean, Young Kaminari?”

Kaminari scratched the back of his neck nervously, thanking whatever god was listening that he didn’t have to make eye contact. “Well, like, when you save somebody, you smile so that they’ll smile with you, right? You let ‘em know that things are okay.”

All Might said nothing, and waited patiently for Kaminari to continue. Kaminari twiddled with his fingers, drumming them against his thigh. “I-I’m not as strong as Deku. I’m not as smart as Yaomomo. But I can make people laugh when things are bad and it feels good to make them feel better. It feels like something I’m kinda meant to do, you know?”

There was that lump in Kaminari’s throat again. “So what do I do when I can’t do that? How do I help when I can’t just say something stupid and make her--someone laugh? I don’t have the right words and I don’t know what the right thing to do is and I just feel so useless.”

A calloused hand landed gently on Kaminari’s shoulder. “You don’t make them smile to fix their problems, Young Kaminari. You make them smile to make things easier.”

A jubilant songbird flitted through the courtyard as All Might continued. “You won’t be able to fix people. People don’t work that way. Everyone has their own issues and the solutions to those problems very rarely lie completely within someone else. People never need to be ‘fixed,’ Young Kaminari. People just need help.”

Kaminari finally made eye contact with All Might, tears brimming at the edge of his eyes. “Then what do you do?”

The wrinkles around All Might’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Your best. Even if there’s no guarantee it’ll always work. You smile, you brush the dust from their shoulders, and you always make sure that they know that you’re here for them. No one can truly ‘fix’ someone else. That doesn’t make you useless and it doesn’t make them broken.”

Kaminari let out a watery chuckle. “Unless they put the milk in before the cereal. Those people must be broken, right?”

All Might threw back his head and laughed again, cannons firing off in the UA courtyard. “I suppose so.”

Kaminari rubbed the tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand, and stood up from the table. “I have to get back to work, but thanks, All Might. I think I needed that.”

All Might gave him a knowing grin. “Give my regards to Young Jirou, as well.”

Kaminari felt himself blush and stumble over an entirely flat part of the lawn, but he was too happy to care. For the first time in weeks, Kaminari began typing out a text message.

deepfriedkaminari: hey it’s been a while

deepfriedkaminari: i missed talking to you and stuff

deepestdope: yeah. Can we talk?

deepfriedkaminari: Took the words right out of my mouth. Is mouth right?

deepfriedkaminari: Textbox?

deepfriedkaminari: Word thingy?

deepestdope: I missed you, Jammingwhey. Can you come to Yaomomo’s party tomorrow?

deepfriedkaminari: Hell yeah!

deepestdope: Proper punctuation? That’s a first.

deepestdope: That sounded wayyy harsher than I meant.

deepestdope: I’m excited, though.

deepestdope: About seeing you tomorrow.

deepestdope: In case that wasn’t clear or something.

deepestdope: I’m really bad at this. Please help.

deepfriedkaminari: im excited to see you too :)

Kaminari smiled as he disengaged his bike from the bike rack, queued up a song, and then slid his phone into his pocket. Frank Sinatra’s Fly Me to The Moon wasn’t a loud, aggressive anthem like he was used to while bike riding, but somehow, in the heavy midday sun, it was perfect.