The morning sun leaked through the cracks in the pillow fort, casting golden light across Kaminari's face. He blinked awake slowly, disoriented, until he remembered the late-night snack-fest, the fairy lights, and the comforting presence next to him.
Kirishima was still asleep, snoring lightly, one arm draped across his chest and the other flopped awkwardly over a half-eaten packet of cookies.
Kaminari smiled faintly, then felt the quiet flutter in his chest again.
But this time, it wasn't sadness.
It was something warmer. Softer. Strange in a way that made him feel alive.
He turned to look at Kirishima—at the way his messy red hair stuck out in all directions, at the peaceful expression he wore even in sleep—and something clicked. Like a circuit being completed. Like maybe the static wasn't just buzzing anymore. Maybe it was… humming.
Kaminari looked away quickly, cheeks warm.
The cafeteria was already buzzing by the time they shuffled in, laughing about the ridiculous sleep positions they'd ended up in. The usual crowd was around: Mina, Jirou, Sero, Iida telling someone off about balanced nutrition. Typical morning chaos.
They grabbed trays, lined up, and started loading food.
Kirishima, as always, stacked enough eggs and meat to feed a small army.
"You gonna eat all that?" Kaminari teased, nudging him with his elbow.
"Protein is the key to hero gains, man," Kirishima said with a mock serious tone. "I thought you knew this."
Kaminari laughed—loud, genuine—and Kirishima turned toward him, almost startled. Like he hadn't heard that kind of laugh from him in too long. He smiled back, warm and unguarded.
But just as they sat down with their food, a loud crash echoed from across the room.
Everyone turned.
A first-year general studies student had tripped over a wet patch of floor near the breakfast counter, sending their tray flying and landing hard on the ground. Food was splattered, trays clattered, and the poor kid looked stunned and embarrassed.
Most people paused awkwardly—until a few second-years at another table started laughing.
Kaminari froze. The sight tugged at something inside him—how easy it was to be humiliated, to feel out of place. He almost stood, but Kirishima beat him to it.
"Yo!" Kirishima called out, loud enough to silence the laughter. "That's not cool."
The second-years looked annoyed, but didn't say anything back. Kirishima walked over and knelt beside the general studies kid, offering a hand with the biggest, most sincere smile Kaminari had ever seen.
"Hey, you okay? That looked rough."
The kid nodded, red-faced, and let Kirishima help him up.
Kaminari stood too, walking over to help gather the scattered food and trays.
"You good?" he asked the student.
The kid nodded again. "Y-yeah. Thanks."
"No problem," Kaminari said, offering a crooked grin. "You just pulled off a very heroic banana peel slip. That takes skill."
The kid chuckled, just a little, and Kaminari felt something small and proud light up in his chest.
When they got back to their table, Kirishima bumped his shoulder against Kaminari's.
"That was really cool of you, man," he said.
Kaminari shrugged, face warming. "I just… I didn't want him to feel like I do sometimes."
Kirishima was quiet for a moment.
Then, softly: "I think that's what makes you a good hero."
Kaminari glanced at him.
Their eyes met. And something shifted. The air between them seemed to charge—like the pause before a thunderclap. But not loud. Not shocking. Just… real.
"You helped me last night," Kaminari said quietly. "More than I think you know."
"I know," Kirishima said, just as soft. "I'd do it again. Anytime."
Kaminari's eyes flicked to Kirishima's hand resting on the table.
Without thinking—without planning—he placed his own hand over it.
Kirishima blinked, startled for just a second.
Then his fingers turned and curled into Kaminari's.
Neither of them looked away.
And in that busy cafeteria, with people chatting and trays clattering and life buzzing around them, Kaminari felt the warmest kind of static hum in his chest.
He wasn't alone.
.