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“That’s cool, Shouto…” Shinsou murmured from his spot next to Todoroki, still hand-feeding him candied tangerines. His eyes were transfixed on the other boy, like he was under a spell.
In a way, he was.
“Koiwazurai Hitoshi,” Yaoyorozu had read off the Quirked medical card they received from Recovery Girl upon Shinsou’s return. “Quirk: Cupid. Otherwise known as ‘Love at First Sight’…the subject becomes infatuated with anyone they make eye contact with.”
Shinsou had been running a practice patrol with some in the underground hero circuit well into the night. It was the weekend, so he must’ve figured he could recover his circadian rhythm in time for class on Monday. While working the beat, though, they’d run into some trouble — what else was new, for a member of their class? — but, as was the nature of underground work, they were skimped for details.
What they did know, was Shinsou had been affected by a Quirk. A Quirk that was making him act crazy.
Crazy in love.
The current object of his affection? Todoroki, pretty-boy-wonder himself, who had been the one that had been sent — by random draw — to recover Shinsou from the nurses’ office. Shinsou had apparently been trying to keep his head bowed, refusing to look at anyone… but it was natural — muscle memory, even — to look up when a door opened, or a figure approached you.
“You remind me of a cat,” Shinsou simpered, blinking slow like a cat himself.
Todoroki, for his part, seemed unfazed. No fuss, gladly eating the candied tangerines out of the offered hand. He even had a small smile on his face — something that Kaminari knew was rare; though less so with each passing day.
Kaminari didn’t blame him. He would love to be fed candied tangerines and doted on like a king.
Alas. A boy can dream.
“This is so damn creepy.” Sero muttered from next to him.
On Sero’s other side — where they’d all squished together on the common room couch — Ashido grinned. “Aw~ Don’t be jealous, Sero,” she cooed, poking his arm.
“I’m not jealous!”
“Methinks he doth protest too much,” Kaminari said.
Yeah, that’s rich, coming from you. The mean voice in his head rattled the bars of his subconscious.
Bakugou wandered over from the kitchen, his usual scowl firmly in place — ladle held at his side like he was wielding a sword.
“This is gonna be such a pain in the ass to deal with.” He sneered.
Shinsou must’ve glanced askance at their little gander, because his eyes locked on to Bakugou.
“Uh oh,” Kaminari blurted, suddenly feeling his appetite vanish.
“Please tell me someone’s recording this,” Sero was snickering now. Good to know his spirits had been lifted, because Kaminari’s sure hadn’t.
Shinsou slid away from the table he’d been sitting at with Todoroki, him and the candied tangerines forgotten — ouch. Even if it was fake, Kaminari would hate to be dropped like that.
He started approaching Bakugou, who really was wielding the ladle like a sword now.
“Hell no, I’m not dealing with this—“
“MY FELLOW CLASSMATES,” Iida stood in front of Bakugou, like an impenetrable wall. Shinsou’s eerily pink gaze snapped up to him instead. “Please, let us not crowd Shinsou-kun! It’s only making the situation we find ourselves in more difficult!”
“We?” Bakugou’s lip curls, but for once staying firmly behind Iida, backing away slowly to the kitchen.
“Iida,” Shinsou’s voice came out like a dreamy sigh, his approach not at all deterred toward the new object of his affection.
It went on like this for a bit, Jirou came down from her dorm and the entrance of a new person made Shinsou’s head swivel towards her.
He did that weird nearly-floating-on-his-feet walk over to her, leaning in close and chatting her up quietly. For her part, Jirou looked bewildered and gradually mortified, her face getting redder and redder by the second.
Then his attention caught Ashido — who ate the attention up, took the moony-eyed Shinsou in stride. She even convinced him to do a viral dance with her — something Shinsou, at any other time, had vehemently sworn off.
Even Mineta got Shinsou simp time. A fact and memory Kaminari wanted to immediately perish from his mind.
“Perhaps we should escort Shinsou back to his room,” Tokoyami said, his usually quiet voice made even quieter, probably in an attempt to not rouse Shinsou’s attention. “This feels a bit like taking advantage…”
“You are absolutely correct, Tokoyami-kun! Let us help Shinsou-kun by—”
Kaminari leapt up from the couch before he could think twice — or even once — about it. “I’ll escort!”
Sero snorted from his spot on the couch.
“I-I mean, I’ll help Shinsou up to his room.”
"Kaminari," like life was suddenly in slow motion, Shinsou’s gaze finally turned to Kaminari.
“Can you…”
Here it comes…!
“…get my phone? I left it on the coffee table by you.”
Kaminari stared at Shinsou. Shinsou stared back.
Nothing.
Numbly, Kaminari followed Shinsou’s request. He reached forward and scurried over, feeling pathetic and guilty all at once. Their hands even brushed when he handed it over to him, like something out of a shoujo romance…
Not a swoon in sight.
Shinsou ducks his head suddenly, keeping his gaze averted from further contact with anyone else.
Getting the message for once, Kaminari linked arms with him, escorting him to the elevator.
“Can’t believe I left my phone in the middle of the common room.” Shinsou muttered.
“Yeah, rookie mistake,” Kaminari tried infusing his voice with as much of his usual playfulness, rolling with the conversation opening for whatever it was. “That’s basically inviting Hagakure-chan to leave a goofy selfie as your lock screen.”
“Hm,” Shinsou didn’t sound worried. “My passcode, though.”
“You think those aren’t easy to figure out?” Kaminari nudged him. “S’probably your birthday, like everybody else’s.”
He shook his head. “It’s not.”
“Aizawa-sensei’s birthday.”
“Nope.”
“Your cat’s birthday.”
“Which one?”
“Moka, your favorite.”
“Damn,” Shinsou clicked his tongue.
“Gotcha?”
“Almost,” he could see Shinsou smiling in the reflection of the elevator doors. “It was Moka’s birthday.”
“Oh,” Kaminari was lost, then. What else was new? “Maybe—“ the elevator dinged. Right. The banter had momentarily made him forget what they were doing and why they were doing it.
Kaminari offered his arm again.
“I’m fine,” Shinsou said, a tendril of his usual stubbornness coming through. “I think I can manage the hallway.”
“Mm. I dunno. Gotta follow-through on the mission,” Kaminari joked. Mission, procedural… nothing about Kaminari had evoked any emotions.
Not loving ones, anyway.
He loosely linked up with the offered arm.
Shinsou’s dorm was on the top floor, at the end of the hallway to the right, next to Satou’s. He’d spent many a time since Shinsou officially transferred bothering him here.
Despite the fact most of the class was elsewhere, and unlikely that anyone on Shinsou’s floor would pop up, Shinsou kept his eyes downcast.
The walk was short, when they reached Shinsou’s door, there was a small, stilted pause, then:
“Thanks, Kaminari.” Shinsou murmured, their arms loosening from one another. His voice sounded…relieved. Definitely not that lilting lovey-dovey voice he’d been using with everyone else…
“Uh. Sure. No problem.”
“…I’ll see you later?” He peered over his shoulder. Their gazes held.
Still nothing.
“Y-yeah, sure,” he choked out a laugh somehow, feeling his heart wobble around his rib cage.
A prickling sensation ran up along his skin, feeling flustered with shame rather than…whatever emotion he would’ve been feeling.
He felt terrible. Not only was Shinsou just— not even a Quirk could make him look at him like…— he was also a terrible friend.
Shinsou would probably be mortified by what the Quirk did, how it messed with his head…
Kaminari went to his own room, feeling heavy and hollow all at once. Was there something wrong with him?
He flopped face-down on his bed the minute he got inside, struggling to pin down how to feel. What to feel.
He didn’t have time to spiral for long, a knock came to his door — one he recognized as Sero’s.
“You decent?!”
Barely. Was usually the response, but this time Kaminari just grunted out a “yeah” that he hoped was audible through the door.
Apparently, it was. Kaminari rolled over on his back as the door opened and Sero peeked his head in.
“Hey, man,” Sero grinned. “You didn’t come back down. How’d you pry Shinsou off?”
“I didn’t.” He replied. “There was nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.”
“Eh…” Sero was already in the room now, making himself comfortable on the floor — between the bed and the table in the middle of the room. “Really?”
“Mmng,” Kaminari confirmed.
“How’s that even work?”
Kaminari made an even less coherent sound.
There was another knock at the door, one Kaminari recognized as Jirou — because she did a specific rhythmic tap, and used one of her lobe-jacks so the sound was somewhat tinny.
“It’s open!”
Jirou came in, not even flinching at Sero’s presence — her super hearing made taking her by surprise or sneaking up on her pretty much impossible.
Believe Kaminari, he’d tried.
She had her switch in her hand and a huge bag of marshmallows tucked under her arm. With Sero sat between the table and the bed, she made a beeline for the beanbag chair — that was a recent addition to Kaminari’s kitschy, all-over-the-place living space. He’d actually thought about returning it, since it was cumbersome (many times he’d tripped over it trying to get to and from his study desk) but Shinsou liked sitting on it, too…he’d fallen asleep in it several times. Dude needed sleep, it seemed sacrilege to get rid of it.
“Am I inherently unlovable?” Kaminari bemoaned to the ceiling above, having thrown himself back on his bed like a distraught regency romance heroine.
“Yup,” Sero muttered from the floor.
Jirou threw a marshmallow, hitting Sero square in the head.
“Be nice.” She warned.
“How about—“ Sero started and decided to stop, with Jirou reaching in for another potetional projectile.
Sero pouted, picking the projectile marshmallow off the floor and popping it in his mouth.
Jirou’s lip curled. “Gross, don’t eat that—“
Kaminari, feeling like one lousy marshmallow (that he got to eat, too!) wasn’t enough, lobbed the nearest plushie at him — aw, man, it was the ugly one Shinsou had won him at the game center, the first time they’d all gone as a class after he transferred. He’d been sad he wasted a whole cup’s worth of coins trying to win against a (clearly rigged, they were all rigged, dumbass) claw machine, only for Shinsou to strut over and do it right once.
…It was actually a bit aggravating at the time — Kaminari hadn’t known Shinsou as well, and it was easy to misread Shinsou’s easy confidence as cockiness. But the more Kaminari got to know him, the less it seemed easy at all. A smokescreen of sorts. His confidence was hard-fought, a protective thing…and wiped out of thin air, at times. Shyly avoiding gazes, the tips of his ears getting red. His smile going lopsided, like his mouth was unsure if it was allowed to make the motion.
Dammit.
Sorry, Nathanial Pawthorne. He thought deliriously towards the plushie.
“What?” Sero asked. Ah. He said that out loud. Awesome.
“I get you’re still miffed about ShinTodo being canon, but can you not take it out on me?” Kaminari snipped the change in subject with lightning fast redirection.
This time, a marshmallow pelted Kaminari. He sat up on his elbows, shooting Jirou a look that was only met with a steady try me stare back.
If there was one thing Kaminari was good at, it was knowing when to retreat. He knew not to mess with Jirou further. Or her huge bag of edible projectiles.
“ShinTodo— ShinTodo is not canon,” Sero sputtered, face scrunched up in a way that Kaminari would usually find hilarious.
Actually, it was still kind of hilarious.
“Gettin’ awfully defensive.”
“You’re one to talk!” Sero threw his head back so it was laid on the mattress. “You’ve been pouting all day just ‘cause Shinsou never got all— oooh, Denki-penki, you have bequeathed me, body and soul!”
“Denki-penki…?” Jirou muttered, clearly trying to cover up a snort.
“It’s bewitched me, body and soul—!”
“No need to scream, Pinky’s on the scene!” Ashido burst in then, effectively cutting off whatever tension had been pressure-cooking in the room. “And she brought her sidekicks with her!”
“I ain’t a sidekick,” Bakugou muttered, already at Kaminari’s study desk. He took a wide step over the chair at it, plopping himself on it backwards so he still faced everybody.
“Hey, guys,” Kirishima also entered, sitting himself at the foot of Kaminari’s bed, close to were Sero was on the floor.
“Gang’s all here... yay,” Kaminari didn’t have it in him to pep up his voice anymore. He just felt…defeated. Indisposed. Other some such words.
“What’s up?” Kirishima’s usually wide eyes were even wider with worry.
“Shinsou,” everyone else answered at the same time — even Bakugou? — before Kaminari could deflect again.
“Eh! What do you mean? Why’d everyone— how come everyone else—“ Kaminari couldn’t focus on what to be annoyed about. “—even Mineta…seriously, can you guys just tell me if I’m unlikable? Rip the bandaid off. I can handle it.”
"No you can't." Bakugou said.
“We love you! Don’t say stuff like that!” Ashido chastised, throwing another marshmallow at him. She’d squeezed herself on the beanbag chair with Jirou, so she had access to the marshmallow bag. She also lobbed one at Bakugou, but of course he caught in midair.
Bakugou tsked and shoved it in his mouth — a year ago that definitely would’ve led to a tantrum. Talk about character growth.
“Quirks have weird things to them sometimes, right?” Ashido was clearly grasping for straws, trying to assuage whatever oncoming depressive slump Kaminari was huddling himself into.
He’d shoved a pillow over his head, already halfway there.
“Yeah, man! There’s probably just weird parts to that Cupid Quirk,” Kirishima swooped in to help her grasp. “Like how Tetsutetsu starts rusting if it rains.”
“He does?” Ashido looked curious. “Oooh, next time he has that, let me know! I can get all phosphoric. Or, maybe citric acid. It’s less corrosive. I don’t wanna accidentally melt Tetsutetsu.”
“Sure, I can let him know—“
“How’s Tetsutetsu’s crust-rust relevant right now,” Kaminari’s voice was petulant and muffled by the pillow he still had over his face. “I thought we were commiserating.”
“I came here to kill you at Mario Kart, actually.” Jirou tapped her dark purple switch she’d perched in her lap with the end of one of her stretched earjacks.
“But seriously, what’s the deal?”
“Christ,” Bakugou huffed. “It probably means there wasn’t a change.”
“Great, awesome, so I am inherently unlov—“
“Listen to what the fuck I’m saying, numbskull,” Bakugou’s words were harsh, but his voice was even. Thoughtful, even — in his own way. “If he acts crazy about whoever, but doesn’t change with you, means—“
“He’s already crazy about you!” Ashido interjected. Which was probably good, Bakugou looked like he was ready to pop a blood vessel or throw himself out the nearest window if he had to continue having a conversation that broached on being emotionally vulnerable for any longer.
Another silence hung over the room.
“I…” Kaminari broke it, blinking incredulously. “Is that.”
“Jammingwey’s gotta reboot,” Jirou said.
“Huh. Huh! …Huh?” He still couldn’t really wrap his head around it. There’s no way…he pulled the pillow off his face.
“You guys don’t—“ he started and stoped. Then stated again, his voice fell into a whisper, as if saying it any louder would jinx it. He was holing a precious secret he couldn’t quite fathom. “For real? You think so?”
“Dude,” Sero placed the ugly plushie he got pelted with back on the bed, face full of pity. Kaminari was cycling through too many emotions to get annoyed over it. “He won you a claw machine plushie. Be serious.”
“He would’ve done that for anyo—“
A knock came to the door. Everyone jumped except Jirou.
“Kaminari…?” A familiar voice asked, hesitant. “Are you in there?”
“Speak of the fucking devil,” Bakugou said.
“Don’t call him that,” Kaminari bit out, with more venom than he usually unleashed at people. He raised his voice again to answer the poor, discombobulated, currently-Quirked guy on the other side of the door.
“Yeah! Um, kinda have company—“
“We were leaving!” Ashido interrupted, already leaping to her feet.
“Ugh, we just got here…” Jirou looked like a cat that had ben disrupted from its nap.
“Do you want to deal with Shinsou being all lovey-dovey at you again? Quirk’s probably still active.”
“Going. We’re going.” Jirou hastily agreed.
“Why’s his stupid ass even walking around the halls right now,” Bakugou asked under his bret, rising up from the desk chair he’d effectively made his stand-in throne. He strode over to the door, frowning.
“Oi, your eyes better be covered!”
Bakugou waited a moment — one of the rare times Bakugou hesitated — then wretched the door open. Kaminari could see his shoulders visibly relax.
“Let’s go,” he cocked his had and stomped off, not waiting for anyone to follow.
Jirou waved at Kaminari over her shoulder with one of her earjacks, rushing out the door with a speed that could rival Iida.
“Good luck, man,” Kirishima patted whatever part of Kaminari’s body was closest to him — his leg — then got up and left. Sero waved at Kaminari and flashed him a thumbs-up for good measure, tailing close behind Kirishima.
All that was left was…
“Details,” Ashido leaned over Kaminari’s bed, staring down at him. Her bright golden eyes suddenly felt like two headlights blaring in his face. “I want details. After.” Her face swished back to its usual sweet look. “Cya, Kami~”
“Cya,” his voice came out shaky. Nervous because of the boy standing outside his door, that he maybe-likely-probably-definitely has a crush on, or from the barely veiled threat Ashido carried. She would get answers.
He took a deep breath. He could do this. He stood up and took a seat at the table in the middle of the room, leaving the beanbag chair free. Jirou had left her bag of marshmallows near it. Nice, he thought, desperately trying not to have a freak out.
The door was left ajar by Ashido, so he could see Shinsou still standing there with an arm bent over his eyes. His heart squeezed, guilt returning. The way they’d treated that Quirk so blasé…
“All clear,” Kaminari said.
Shinsou lowered his arm. His eyes were still that strange, bright fuchsia. Same heart-shaped pupils.
“…Hey.”
“Hey,” Kaminari smiled, a little wobbly. “You gonna stand in the doorway all day or come in?”
Shinsou stepped in with a lavish roll of his eyes, shutting the door behind him. In a few long strides he was — sitting in the beanbag chair.
Kaminari’s smile widened, holding out the bag of marshmallows he’d swiped. “Want one?”
“…sure,” Shinsou took one, delicately.
“So,” Kaminari stressed the o out. “What brings you to my domain?”
“Don’t call it that,” Shinsou snorted, rolling the marshmallow nervously between his fingers. “I just…felt weird up there. By myself.”
“No way,” Kaminari fell back on simple teasing, the place he felt most comfortable. “Mr. Lone Wolf wants company? Never thought I'd see the day.”
“I can leave.” Shinsou groused back.
“No! Nono! Don’t. I like—“ jumping ahead there, buddy. “I want you to stay.”
“Guess I’m used to the commotion now.” Shinsou was talking again. “I just,” he sighed through his nose. “I hate…not being in control. Of— of myself? I don’t know. And you’re the only person I’m not…acting weird around.”
“Sorry,” Kaminari blurted.
“Sorry?” Shinsou looked taken aback, the space between his eyebrows ceasing. “What for?”
“I wasn’t thinking about how being Quirked would make you feel, y’know— like. Most of us were treating you like free entertainment.” You, of all people, should know how that feels. The guilt-trip gremlin in his brain said.
“…it’s fine,” the pause told Kaminari it maybe wasn’t, not entirely, but Shinsou was still speaking. And Kaminari tended to hang on his every word. “I probably would’ve done the same.”
“Oh really?” Kaminari peered over at him, feeling a little less guilty. He didn’t think he’d hold a grudge over Shinsou for messing around a little, either. They’re older now, closing in on graduation next year (oh god, final exams...!), but they’re still dumb kids.
They couldn’t all have the chivalrous moral compass of Tokoyami.
“Sure,” Shinsou’s smile was a mean little sliver. “Wonder what crazy things you’d do.”
Christ. If all that was what that Quirk did to Shinsou’s reserved nature, he could only imagine what chaos would be wrought if it was him.
“Yeah, haha…” but then, that brought them to the crux of the matter. “Although…” His voice trailed off a moment before he found it again.
“I might not act any differently. With you.”
Shinsou suddenly stopped fidgeting with the marshmallow. “What’s that suppose to mean?”
“…Shinsou, um.” Kaminari swallowed, suddenly excruciatingly nervous. “Bakugou had a theory.”
“Okay?” He still hadn’t eaten his marshmallow, or gone back to fidgeting with it.
“He thought…you’re not acting funny with me, ‘cause…because you already. You know.” Kaminari lowered his voice into a whisper, as if the quieter it was the less likely it would spook Shinsou and he’d up and bolt. “…like me.”
“Is this some kind of joke,” Shinsou’s voice was measured — too measured, even for him.
“What?” Kaminari’s panic level started rising. “No? I wouldn’t— I just, the way you were with everyone else, all over them, and,” his voice was shaking, worse and worse. “I w-was—“ His cheeks felt wet. “Ergh, what the shit— I don’t know why I’m crying, haha,” He swiped harshly at his face, trying to push through.
“Were you…” Shinsou swallowed, picking up the fragments of the conversation. He was white-knuckling the marshmallow, his face startlingly red. “You were…jealous?”
Seeing Shinsou all over everyone but him…maybe it had been breaking his heart more than he’d thought.
“Guess so,” Shinsou’s mouth had started migrating into a very slight smile. The lopsided one that said he was teetering somewhere between smarmy and shy. “Oh, you’re loving this. Man— quit it with that stinker smile, what the hell! I’m pouring my heart out over here!”
“Some confession.” Shinsou tried to settle his face into a sneer, but the smile sticks. “Stinker smile”? Wow, I really feel wooed.”
“You wanna be wooed? I can do wooed.”
“Hm…” he’d halfway leaned out of the beanbag chair so he could reach over. Ran his thumb along the underside of Kaminari’s eye, collecting the leftover tears that were slowing. “I think,” he swallowed again, leaning back suddenly, his face a little slack from — shock, maybe? Kaminari had never seen him wear an expression like that.
“I think Bakugou’s right.”
“I know h-how hard that was for you to admit.” Kaminari sometimes leaned so much on keeping things light — a quip here, a deflection here — he didn’t fully register what was being said. Directly at him.
Oh.
Oh.