TRIGGER WARNING: This book contains graphic descriptions of self-harm, which is why it it is rated M. Also contains profanity, implied and some not-so-implied sexual content, and drug use. You have been warned.

DISCLAIMER: Cover art, minus edits made by me, belongs to the creator of My Hero Academia himself, Kohei Horikoshi, as do characters and settings involved in this book.

~ Special thanks to FanisAlefragis over on Wattpad for being the best beta reader ever! ~

A/N: I want to preface this by saying KamiJirou is my favorite ship, so I am beyond excited to write this. I've had this idea marinating in my head for about a month now and am so glad to be finally posting these first two chapters. These took a lot of editing and trial and error until I was happy with them, as I want this story to be something special as some of these topics hit close to home for me, and I'm sure I'm not the only one. I have the whole plot planned out from here, so hopefully this fic can live up to your expectations!

Anyway, enjoy this first and second chapter. I'd love to hear your thoughts if you'd be up to it! This story is cross-posted under the same name on all three sites—Wattpad, ff . net, and Archive of Our Own.

Denki's idiocy had led him to learn one thing and one thing only today: Don't make decisions on the spur of the moment.

Because he'd ended up here, standing in front of the looming tower of Gym Gamma, Bakugou threatening to blow his ass up into a million pieces as he stood there and simply stared at him, biting his bottom lip.

Yeah, no more spur-of-the-moment decisions for Denki.

He had his pick. And he picked this.

Bakugou and him were the first two to fight, and not necessarily by random draw. Bakugou's belligerent attitude sent a shiver down Denki's spine, popping off explosions beside him as he passed him on the battlefield. Bakugou turned around, narrowed his eyes at Denki. He could've sworn with that look in his stone-hearted gaze, he was a moment away from throwing up a middle finger to the sky in front of all of his teachers.

Denki shook it off, stood at the opposite side of the arena.

He turned back to all of his classmates. Kyouka laughed, and he was about to say what he always did when he got inwardly hurt by her teasing (Come on, Jirou!) but before he could sputter the words out, she stopped, stood up straight, and gave him a thumbs up. He couldn't let his excitement boil over, though, as seconds later he noticed Kirishima's wary smile out of the corner of his eye, sweat trickling down his forehead. Denki scratched his cheek.

An alarm sounded, the ringing ricocheting off the walls. Present Mic's voice resonated throughout the gym. "And go!"

Denki ignited an electric flame, speedy sparks dusting his fingertips as he dug his nails into the palms of his hands.

"Fight me, you Dunce Face! Or I'll make you my personal phone charger for the rest of the week!"

Blood was trickling down now, pooling in his palms.

Dunce Face again, huh? Denki thought. Of course—he wouldn't expect any less from Bakugou.

Bakugou would wait on him to make the first move. So Denki did, knowing for the sake of his classmates this fight needed to get a move on, and the only artillery he had that could even come close to countering one of the strongest students in class was his shabby Sharpshooting Gear. Except Bakugou was no fool, and he easily avoided a good majority of his disks, and although one did hit, clasping itself to his arm, it didn't do nearly enough damage to be considered consequential. Denki honed in his skills, his electricity an unruly force within his body, shocks running up Bakugou's bicep and back down again. Inevitably, and thankfully, it left him immobilized, his limb no longer in use. And that made Bakugou angry—even more angry than before, downright livid, as that electric loser had screwed up his Stun Grenade plan—and with his free hand he was shooting off bombs behind him until he reached the good-for-nothing electric boy he'd long since deemed unworthy, Denki trying to grab ahold of him but failing miserably. Bakugou ducked underneath him and trapped him with his foot and spun him around like a toy top as he let off an Explode-A-Pult, sending Denki flying. He was seeing stars as he hit the opposite wall of Gym Gamma hard, and he was a little disappointed in himself but not surprised that he'd barely managed to do much more than fry Bakugou's hair. Bakugou closed in on him again, and Denki, in a last-ditch effort, got a grip on his arm and let out an Indiscriminate Discharge 1.3 Million Volts.

Knowing this would likely be his last attack, he powered it up to 2 million.

Students on the sidelines ducked their heads.

The electricity died down just seconds after hurling across the gym, the smoke whisking away just as fast. Bakugou, his whole left side paralyzed, faltered, but still stood up.

All Might threw up a flag. "And the winner is Young Bakugou!"

Denki was revealed under the cloud of gray grime. From across the battlefield, Kyouka's gaze was hard on his Jamming-Whey form.

He had plenty of options. So why, out of all of their classmates, did he choose Bakugou?

Bakugou had sustained minor injuries. Soot here and there, an electrical burn running up his arm in the shape of a thunderbolt. But besides that, the coast was clear, and Denki was the one who lost, his head not on straight for at least the next hour or so.

Kirishima crossed his arms, smiling slyly down at the ground. He let out a small sigh. "Well, I think we can all be honest here and say that was expected—"

Kyouka jabbed Kirishima with her jacks. "That's not the point, you idiot!" She looked out across the battlefront, Denki getting gingerly lifted onto a stretcher programmed to bring him straight to Recovery Girl's office. He gave his classmates a dopey grin, and although she wanted to let loose so badly, she had to hold down her laugh. "He looks like a dumbass over there, as he always does," she mumbled under her breath, "but… I can't help but wonder… why Bakugou?"

Denki came to consciousness an hour later, slowly sitting up in blank white bed sheets. He held his head in his hands.

As soon as he pulled them away, he stared at one, scrutinizing the lines of his palms and clenching his fist. Idiot, he thought, and he closed his eyes again and gritted his teeth.

He suddenly had an epiphany and looked up. The curtains were open. He craned his neck from side to side, straining it slightly in the process, only to shrug his shoulders when he realized he was luckily the only one in the room. He sighed.

Recovery Girl wheeled herself over to his bed, her swivel chair squeaking against the marbled floor. She greeted Denki with a smile. "Well, sonny, you're looking a little bit charred over there. Mind if I bandage your arm?"

Denki shook his head. He lifted his sleeve slightly, just enough so that she could bandage it, telling himself over and over again to be very careful not to pull it up any higher. Recovery Girl was quick to remove the old gauze and put a new one on, and then she went back to fiddling with the old keyboard on her computer.

Denki turned toward the table next to his bed. He placed the leftover gauze on the countertop and lay down.

He rolled over onto his side. His hip stung, and in consequence he winced a little, and he realized the bandages on his arms weren't the only ones that needed replacing. Sadly, though, he couldn't ask Recovery Girl for help with these.

When Denki heard yelling, he peeked over his shoulder, not at all startled to see a bristly blonde standing in the hallway.

"Stupid Deku. He's the reason I'm here!" Bakugou passed through the doorway in one of those motorized stretchers, gauze wrapped lazily around both of his arms. He sported a big black bruise under his eye and another few on his cheeks. Denki didn't question it. He assumed his fight with Midoriya didn't go well. "God, the ground was too rocky…."

Bakugou's rage only seemed to intensify when Denki's golden eyes crossed his. He turned his head toward the wall, huffed, scowled. Denki did not move from bed.

The cots in Recovery Girl's office were thin, small, and a tidbit too close together. There was only a sliver of space between them, a one-way lane for people to walk. Bakugou side-shuffled through that lane awkwardly as he was directed toward the bed next to Denki's.

Recovery Girl excused herself, promising to be back soon. She needed to grab some papers.

The room was quiet. Denki wasn't used to Bakugou being so quiet.

He sat up and glanced over, Bakugou's back resting flat against the headboard. His face fell, and he was playing with a piece of loose gauze.

Denki grabbed the bandages Recovery Girl had forgotten to take from him from his nightstand. "Need some of this?" he asked, waving the box out in front of him.

Bakugou scoffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He grimaced, his left hand hurt and still in the process of healing. Denki wanted to laugh, as it was clear Bakugou was giving it his all to swallow the pain down.

"I don't need help from you, loser!" Bakugou said, hopping out of bed. "I can dress my own wounds, so don't ever offer it to me again! And what's with that stupid face you're making?"

Denki let his lips fall. "Sorry, sorry, man. Hey, I wanted to say good job today."

Bakugou growled. "I don't need to hear that from you."

Bakugou never once made eye contact with him.

You're seriously never gonna make new friends if you keep acting like that... Denki wanted to say, but Bakugou was already in a bad enough mood, so he refrained.

Denki watched as he idly strolled over to the medicine cabinets on the opposite side of the room, his PE uniform sagging as he flung the door back and grabbed the gauze. He ripped open a whole new package.

Denki sighed as he faced the opposing wall. Bakugou was being a bit more vulgar than usual today.

He narrowed his eyes. He was still a little tired from Recovery Girl's Quirk, but his memory graced him like it always did, fast and furious whenever he did something wrong—although a bit hazy, covered in a thin layer of fog. He could see past it, though, into the dimly lit classroom he and his classmates had occupied a few hours before.

He didn't know why he did it. He had plenty of options, most a more acceptable match for him. "Let's pick our partners today," All Might had said, his presence weak as he stood in his skeletal stature. "We usually go by random draw, but I've been thinking lately I want to stir the pot. Not to mention, I'm sure there are classmates you'd each like to fight, yes? A random draw doesn't give you that chance."

There were cheers from around the room.

All Might raised a finger. "But that does not mean I will allow you to choose partners solely based on old rivalries." He looked straight at Midoriya and Bakugou, who shrunk down in their seats.

And so everyone would get to pick who they'd spar against today, one on one, and one member of the class might get to fight five people while another may only get to fight one. It was like the Sports Festival: the fight was either over when one person fell unconscious or was thrown out of the ring.

Denki's classmates were quick to decide, little debate on what rivalries they wanted to quell.

And then Denki was up, and he hadn't thought about it before now, and he really liked teasing Bakugou by calling him "Kacchan", the infamous nickname Midoriya liked to use, and he kind of wanted to lose because he'd finally be able to think to himself, Oh, I really do suck, don't I? The proof is right there in the pudding. It's undeniable now.

"Kaminari? Who are you choosing?" It was Aizawa this time, standing in the corner of the room.

His classmates' gazes were upon him, so he wore a shit-eating grin. "Hmm… Kacchan! Oi, Kacchan, you wanna fight?"

Bakugou slammed his hands down on his desk, his spiky blond hair bursting up in all different directions. "Huh? Is that a challenge, Pikachu?"

Hell no. It was definitely not a challenge.

More like an imminent humiliation for Denki.

But Bakugou could take it however he wanted.

Denki let out another sigh, this one much louder than the ones before. He rested his head against the pillows, his gauze starting to flake, the heat from the vent above him hitting him square in the face. Why did he ever think that was a good idea?

Well, Bakugou did prove it. He proved to him that he sucked.

Denki let out a groan. He couldn't be thinking like this! He needed to try to keep his chin up—he had the rest of the day ahead of him—even if the voices in the back of his head were screaming.

Classes ended abruptly, and students entered their dorms. Kyouka grabbed an apple from the fridge and sat down next to Yaoyorozu, slowly settling in.

"Oh, God, it's cold out there," Yaoyorozu said, shivering and referring to the outside. This was their first week back from winter break.

"I know, right?" Kyouka shimmied her jacket off and tossed it over the side of the couch. "Hey, I liked that move you did earlier. Creating noise-resistant headphones to cancel out my Quirk was clever of you."

Yaoyorozu grabbed the remote, turning on the TV. Classmates around them took it from her as soon as she set it back down on the table to change the channel, quarrelling over what to watch. "Well, some sound did still seep through, though, so it wasn't exactly foolproof."

Kyouka turned toward her, pumping her arms beneath her as her earphone jacks went haywire. "But you still beat me."

Yaoyorozu put a finger to her chin. "That is true…."

"Hey, well anyway, what about that other fight, Kaminari versus Bakugou? Second most violent one out there, just short of Bakugou and Midoriya's."

Yaoyorozu nodded. "It was a little unusual, seeing him pick Bakugou."

"Yeah." Kyouka tilted her head, biting into the skin of her apple. She turned toward the kitchen, where Bakugou was hunched over the counter cutting up kiwis. His slices were invisible, enacted with impeccable grace, each one eclipsing the last. "And now Bakugou's in a bad mood." She rolled her eyes. "Well, a worse one than usual. I guess I'm a little concerned, seeing as, you know, even if he is just stupid Jamming-Whey and annoying as hell sometimes, Kaminari's kind of a good friend to me. So I kinda wanna know what was up with that whole fight, too," she said mid-chew.

Bakugou mumbled something along the lines of that fucker really thought he could challenge me under his breath. Kirishima, who'd been helping him wash the strawberries, jumped back. Kyouka, only able to get bits and pieces of the conversation, shrugged.

Yaoyorozu picked up her juice box off of the counter. She stabbed it multiple times with her straw, her eyebrows growing continuously more furrowed as the seal stayed stubborn. "One of us could ask him," she said, finally breaking that last layer and taking the first sip.

Kyouka grabbed her own juice box and struggled similarly to Yaoyorozu, the seal made of steel. She smiled eagerly when it broke. "Next time one of us sees him, we will."

Contrary to popular belief, Yaoyorozu and Denki were actually friends. Yaoyorozu had gotten to know him through Kyouka, which was why she was so relaxed around him. That usually came as a shock to most.

"You could just ask right now," Yaoyorozu stated. "Sero, Kirishima, and he are skateboarding out front."

Kyouka choked on her juice. "Excuse me? Skateboarding? But it's five degrees!"

Yaoyorozu shrugged, pulling her hair out of her ponytail. "That's what I said. They must like the thrill of it, I guess. Although, I do worry they'll get frostbite."

Kyouka gawked as she stood up, throwing on her coat. "No shit they'll get frostbite!" What are they, idiots?" She began trudging her way to the dorm doors, throwing their towering figures open as she stepped outside. "God, that isn't even a question…."

Wheels skimming down the pavement came to a halt. She looked up to see three heads turned toward her. "Jirou? What're you doing here? I totally thought it would be Yaoyorozu to come out and scold us!" Sero chirped.

Kyouka stared at them, all bundled up in their warm winter coats. She had walked out without thinking, no explicit intentions in mind, taken away by the willowy wisps of adrenaline.

She pointed a finger. "Ugh, what the hell are you guys doing? Do you know how cold it is?"

"Last time I checked," Denki said, pulling out his phone, "four degrees. Why don't you come join us?"

She smacked her forehead. "I don't have a skateboard, dumbass…. And I also don't want to get frostbite."

Denki smiled. "Aw, come on. You're wearing a jacket! Just for a little bit. It totally starts to feel warm once you've been riding around for a while. And I have an extra one, see?" He pointed toward the porch, and, tilting her head slightly, she was able to view a skateboard doused in red and black, painted to look like fire.

Her legs carried her over to it, and slowly, she picked it up. Of course he had four skateboards in his room, at least. And what was that print? It didn't match her at all—it was like he'd left it out for Bakugou. "Fine. But only for a few minutes," she said, and the back of her mind sprung up with a thought: And I also have some very important things to ask you.

Kyouka hopped on, rolling down the asphalt. She felt stiff and smothered in her heavy jacket, big and bulky and sticky. It was harder to use her hands to steady herself.

Kyouka knew the basic mechanics of skateboarding. She had done it with Denki multiple times before, and had even learned how to ride one long before her time at U.A. She didn't know any tricks, though. That was Denki's thing.

Speaking of Denki, she had… questions for him. Questions that needed answers.

She circled around him, swerved past him. She pulled up next to him.

"See? What did I tell you?" he said. "You're not cold anymore, right? It's fun once you get the hang of it!"

A small smile crossed her face. He was right; zooming through the streets left her with a strange rush—a warmth, of sorts.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say." She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I wanted to ask you about today. That fight with Bakugou. Oh, God, he totally gave your ass a good whooping." She started laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world, falling forward at the waist before standing up straight and regaining her balance. "And the Jamming-Whey at the end"—she made an impression of him—"it was hilarious!"

She looked over at him, still laughing. His smile had faded, eyes staring off into space.

She dialed it down a notch, scratching her cheek. "No, for real, though, why the hell'd you pick Bakugou? I mean, you could've picked literally anyone else."

Denki slowed, wavering slightly on his skateboard. He steadied himself.

"I just… like saying his name, I guess? Saying 'Kacchan' sounds funny to me, especially right to his face. And his flaming reaction afterwards—that just makes it. The icing on top of the cake."

Snickering traveled harmoniously through his ears. He turned toward the girl beside him, listening to her snarky retort. "Ugh, no, you weirdo! You sound like you have a crush on him."

Denki laughed. Quietly, though, not hearty like it usually was. Then, he stuck his tongue out, disgusted. "To be honest, I couldn't imagine anyone having a crush on Bakugou."

Kyouka looked down at the ground, puffing out her cheeks. "Bleh. Don't make me puke." Then, hardening her onyx eyes, she looked back up, delicately gazing at him. "But seriously, Kaminari, why'd you pick him? You've got to be joking. I refuse to believe that's the only reason."

Denki sighed. They reached the end of the long drive leading up to their dormitory, and the two turned around quickly. Denki fired ahead.

Kyouka caught up to him. "Oh, no, there's no escaping this one."

His skateboard wobbled as he faltered. "It's just... personal reasons, Jirou. Nothing you need to worry about."

Denki hastened the speed of the kicks, taking off into the distance. He did a spin or two and met back up with Sero and Kirishima. Her legs grew tired racing uphill. She skidded to a stop, holding her skateboard in her hands.

Her eyelids fell slightly looking at him. He did not smile at her, or even look back at her for a single second.

And what the hell were "personal reasons"?

She scoffed. He'd honestly conjured up more questions in her mind than answers.

Kyouka clenched her fists, her grip around the rim of her skateboard tightening. She tramped past the three boys, ignoring their curious glances and setting the skateboard back down on the front porch where Denki had left it. She made up some excuse about needing to finish her homework before hurrying back inside.

That wasn't the normal you, Kaminari. Something is definitely up.

Kyouka was already deeply regretting her decision.

She could still turn back. She had the willpower, and she technically had the time.

But Denki's dismal attitude today was a real red flag, a heavy addition to the black mass conglomerating in her gut. It screamed at her to stay.

And so she knocked on the door.

She cursed herself just mere moments later. Dinner had just wrapped up, and she figured the boys would be heading upstairs soon. They would wonder why the hell she was at Denki's doorstep.

A muffled voice spoke from inside the room. She couldn't make out what it said—only that it was Denki, and it was a lucky distraction from her intrusive and objectionable thoughts. Had he said "Come in"? She sure hoped so, because she was already opening the door.

Light from the hallway danced with the light in the room, mixing together to create this starry yellow hue.

And then she saw him. Denki.

Kyouka went wide-eyed.

It wasn't because he was shirtless. Well, she had to admit, that was one reason—although her focus was on a much more pressing issue.

Her eyes were locked onto him for a few seconds. She couldn't pull away.

Denki's lips parted, his mouth growing increasingly more agape; he was the very definition of a deer in headlights.

"J-Jirou!" he shouted, and as realization dawned upon her, she hurriedly shut the door.

She leaned back against the thin wood out in the hallway, her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. What had she just witnessed?

"Hey, Jirou, the hell? Did you not hear me? I said 'Hold on'!"

She pressed her palm against her forehead, slid down the door until she was slowly but surely sitting on the floor. "I could barely tell through the wall! How was I supposed to know?"

"Aren't you supposed to hear shit better with your Quirk?"

He was clearly frustrated.

"Well I wasn't using it just now. And it's not like I saw you naked. Lock the door next time and maybe this wouldn't happen!" She sighed. "Just... tell me when you're done getting dressed, okay?"

"I'd just gotten back from dinner…." she heard Denki mumble, this time much more attentive to the sound traveling through the walls with her hearing Quirk. She assumed he was referencing the forgetting-to-lock-the-door part of her rant.

Kyouka stared ahead at the wall opposite of her. She seriously needed to compose herself.

After all, she had just discovered something mind-blowing.

Her heart sank.

Did Denki know that she saw? Because she sure did.

Denki was Class 1-A's resident goofball, off-the-wall class clown. He was a sunflower, albeit a rather droopy one, but a sunflower nonetheless, the source of many's delight. So what the hell was this? What side of Denki had she just seen?

There was a slight shake in Denki's voice as he finally managed to speak up. "You can come in."

Kyouka practically slammed the door open.

But then, seeing him standing there, she suddenly didn't know what to say.

She wasn't sure how to confront him. The red lines grazing the bottom of his stomach, so perfectly placed and precise. The white—some red, crisp around their edges—circular scars dotting his shoulders and chest and some small spots on his biceps. Her eyes had paid testament to that, and she really wished they hadn't. She really wished this could all just be a dream.

They were ever so faint with him so far away, but with his hoodie halfway over his head, his body barely exposed, they were there without a doubt, inevitable and impossible to ignore.

Kyouka Jirou was stunned.

Her mouth was left dry. She lost her crudity, her you're a dumbass and he's dumbass and everyone in this room's a damn dumbass if they don't shut up demeanor. She clenched her fists by her side.

"Kaminari."

He flinched. "Yes?"

"I came here to ask you about what's been up with you lately, but now I need to know: What were those cuts on your stomach just now?" She gestured toward his chest, which was now covered up by a band t-shirt.

Denki sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. He refused to look her in the eye. "O-Oh, you saw those? Just cat scratches, and some electrical burns from my Quirk. T-That's all! Nothing more!" He laughed, laughed a little too much, but he quickly realized it was unconvincing and faded out slowly.

Kyouka narrowed her eyes. "Those were not cat scratches."

Denki piped up. "Yes they were!" He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his camera roll. He landed on an American Bobtail with ginger fur and shoved it in her face. "See? Mr. Squiggles! He gave me these!"

Kyouka raised her eyebrow. "Who names their— You know what? Never mind." Then, suddenly, she sighed, taking a menacing step toward him. "Kaminari, those were not just cat scratches. They were too… too meticulous. Just… be honest with me here: Are you hurting yourself?"

Denki bit his bottom lip. "Jirou, seriously—"

And as he looked away from her, a fiery devotion in his eyes to deny, deny, deny, a flame spontaneously kindled inside of her, and she was angry, furious, absolutely livid. Beyond pissed at this idiot for even doing such a thing. "Why? Why, why, why?" She closed her eyes so tightly she could feel her face scrunching up between her eyebrows. "Why are you still denying it, Kaminari? Why would you ever do that to yourself, idiot? What the hell? How long have you been doing that for?"

Denki winced at her words.

His secret was now exposed.

He didn't know what to say. Absolutely no one knew about this, not even Sero or Kirishima or Ashido. Would Kyouka tell someone? Would she get Aizawa in on this case to send his sorry ass to a mental institution and kick him out of U.A.? The what-ifs swirled around in his head, drowning out his self-deprecating thoughts. He had his life in Kyouka's hands.

And she was still her snide self, blatantly calling him an idiot.

"Look, I'm sorry I'm denying it, okay? I've never admitted it to anyone before," he said as he sat down on his bed. "I have issues, Jirou. I do it because I have issues, and I… I can't stop…."

His voice cracked as he hid his head in his hands, rugged fingers running through his hair. Kyouka's eyebrows furrowed, and she reached out a pacifying palm, any and all words forever escaping her.

On his nightstand by his bedside was a bottle of pills. She'd always assumed it was ADHD medicine, as most of the class had just accepted the fact that Denki Kaminari probably had ADHD and that was why his grades were so low. It was the perfect explanation, right?

But, in truth, should they not have surmised? Was it something totally different altogether?

Denki breathed deeply. "Seriously, it's not that big of a deal, so you don't have to concern yourself with it, 'kay?"

Kyouka had collected herself, but now she was in complete shock. "Huh? Not that big of a big deal? Kaminari, what the hell? This is a huge deal! You can't be doing this. Your— Your razor blades, where the hell are they?" Kyouka began looking around his room. "Or whatever the hell you use. You need to get rid of those—"

"Jirou, seriously, I'm not messing around here. You don't need to get involved."

She turned back toward him. "Well neither am I! And when your life is at risk, I do need to get involved! You could at least let me help you, you idiot! You clearly need it if you're gonna go around acting like a dumbass and hurting yourself. You shouldn't even be staying in your room. Hell, why don't you stay in mine? I'll set up a futon as far away as possible from my bed—"

"Jirou, can you please just stop? I told you not to bother!"

She gawked. "Huh? Why are you denying me? Why are you being such an ass when I'm—"

Denki looked up at her this time, no holds barred. His eyes bore into hers. "That, right there, Jirou, is why!" He'd raised his voice a little, and at a girl, no less, but he'd reached his absolute limit, and one more silly little comment would send him over. He was sure with her jacks flying around, she had too. "You call me such nasty names all the time, so how the hell am I supposed to believe you're genuine? And why are you even trying so hard, anyway? It makes less sense than me picking Bakugou for a fight today. You've never once shown you care about me at all. It's all dumbass and Dunce Face and idiot and Jamming-Whey. That shit… it tears me apart, you know."

Kyouka took a step back. He thought she didn't care about him? Seriously?

But, when she thought it over, re-evaluating her words, she understood why he'd think that.

Kyouka put a hand to her lips, staring down at the floor.

"Can you just… go, please?"

Kyouka took one look at him. He was shaking, in somewhat of a shock, and not at all in a state to talk. She was not going to sway him with words this time, not when he was too preoccupied with his own misdemeanors and wrongdoings. And likely his somber secret getting out. That must have played a part, too.

Yet she still couldn't convince herself to leave. "But—"

"But nothing. Please just go."

Kyouka reluctantly let her shoulders fall, as somewhere in the middle of whatever dispute they were in they'd tensed up. "Fine." She craned her neck to the side toward the door, gritting her teeth. "Fine, Kaminari. But this... this can't be the last time we talk."

Denki tightened his grip on his messy bright blond hair, twiddling the piece with the lightning streak between two fingers. He knew she only meant this couldn't be the last time they talked about this topic specifically, but it still pained him to hear. Not like—although it did diminish his confidence—he hated Jamming-Whey or anything.

Kyouka headed for the door. Denki, staring off into space, was startled by its loud bang. He leaned forward, the cuts on his body burning, and sighed.

A/N: And that's a wrap. End of the first chapter. If you enjoyed, head on over to the next one! Oh, and for the record, I was talking in terms of Celsius and not Fahrenheit for temperature. Five degrees Fahrenheit would be wayyy too cold!