Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“What?”

Kaminari glared at Shinsou with a horrified expression to which he replied with a simple smirk.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “that’s why I needed the truck.”

Kaminari kept glaring at him, but Shinsou’s eyes remained affixed on the road down which he was speeding.

“I can’t wear this to meet your parents!” Kaminari motioned to his oversized green t-shirt, ratty black shorts, and even rattier Chucks.

“You look fine,” Shinsou insisted gently.

Kaminari scoffed, “I look like I just crawled out of a frat house.”

Shinsou didn’t respond. Instead, he softened his smile and kept looking forward, turning a long and wide curve in the highway.

“I could’ve showered!” Kaminari complained.

Shinsou chuckled, “You’re fine, Denki.”

The sound of his own name brought a wave of relief crashing over Kaminari’s anxious, rapidly beating heart. The moment the word ‘parents’ had fallen from Shinsou’s lips, he felt his body enter some kind of frenzy that only he could muster so quickly. Kaminari kept glancing down at his shirt and tried to discreetly check the state of his hair in the side view mirror. 

His pale blonde locks had begun to grow out since living with Shinsou, the familiar stripe of black growing into its usual spot. The doctor told him it was some sort of birthmark out of which jet black wiry hair grew; Kaminari had always prided himself on the natural uniqueness of his appearance. Now the strands were long enough to be pushed in all directions so as to not stick out like before. His nose was smattered with more freckles than he’d ever had before, likely from his time out in the sun; his skin was tanner now, too. 

In many ways, he looked the best he’d had since leaving UA. Perhaps it was the prolonged exposure to the sun or the lack of responsibilities, but Kaminari was looking at himself in the mirror and actually smiling for the first time in a very long time.

“I don’t have anything to give them,” Kaminari muttered to himself.

Shinsou interrupted, “You don’t have to give them anything.”

“N-no, but that’s what you do when you go meet someone’s parents, you bring flowers or a candle or—I dunno, a fuckin’ casserole?!”

Shinsou really laughed that time, his head swinging towards the top of the steering wheel. When he sat back up, he craned his neck to glance at an exit in the distance; he began to slow the car as they neared it, turning slightly into the road.

“Fine,” he teased.

Swiftly, they exited the highway and found themselves on a more residential street, one that was cluttered with houses and tiny businesses spotted throughout. Shinsou kept craning his neck left and right to find what he was looking for. Kaminari just looked on in confusion wondering what he’d said to trigger such an immediate change in direction.

Shinsou pulled off onto the side of the road at a point where seemingly nothing was around. Kaminari had to sit up straighter in his seat and watch Shinsou unbuckle himself, grab his cane from the backseat, and climb out of the truck, walking around the front and towards a makeshift vendor’s stand in the distance. Shinsou greeted the woman warmly, Kaminari leaned forward hoping to catch some of the words from their lips.

After they greeted each other, Shinsou gazed at the mass of flowers surrounding the stand and focused on one in particular, a yellow flower with rounded petals. He pointed to them and muttered something to which the woman shuffled towards them and gathered enough for a small bunch. As she wrapped the blooms in thick brown paper, Shinsou chatted with her about something else. With the flowers firmly in his free arm, the woman turned to fetch a foam, lattice vegetable bag packed with three clementines. 

Shinsou turned to crutch back to the car, but he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of another bunch of flowers, these ones a soft blueish-purple with small, spiky petals. He asked the woman something before picking a single bloom from the bunch. With a smile and a chaste word, he bid farewell to the woman and walked casually back to the truck, his lips still curled up in contentment. 

When he reached the driver’s side door, Kaminari tried to settle back in his seat and fiddle with the hem of his shirt so it wouldn’t seem like he was spying the entire time. Shinsou didn’t seem to mind as he climbed into the seat and handed the items to Kaminari and laid his cane across the back seats.

“Here,” he sighed, “yellow pansies, they’re my mom’s favorite.”

Gingerly, Kaminari took the bunch of flowers wrapped with brown paper and tied with a bit of twine in his arms; he held it like a newborn child. Shinsou placed the clementines onto the floor of the car, then the blue spikey flower onto the dashboard, and put the thing into drive once more, heading toward the highway which they’d just recently left.

Kaminari stared at the flowers in his arms. The petals were almost entirely yellow except for a splotch of red that bled from the center. They smelled subtly sweet with a hint of that general flowery scent.

As they re-entered the highway, Shinsou’s eyes were fixed once more to the street ahead. Kaminari kept glancing over, waiting for something to be said about their fated destination, but that old comfortable silence fell between them as the landscape sped past outside their windows. 

Thus, Kaminari took the time to think.

He’d never wondered what Shinsou’s parents would be like. Did he look more like his mother or his father? Was his quirk inherited from one of them or from a mixture of the two? How much did they know about Tokoyami and the accident?

And would they like Kaminari like they probably loved him?

Kaminari had never met anyone’s parents before, he’d never been in a relationship long enough to warrant it. He didn’t know the proper things to say nor the proper way to say them; he didn’t know what parents liked to see in a significant other of their offspring.

But—

what did this mean?

Were he and Shinsou—

No. It couldn’t be like that. Plenty of people introduced their friends to their parents, Kaminari knew all his friends’ moms and dads on a first name basis. He was being introduced to Shinsou’s parents as a good friend, stripped of all the romantic connotations that would normally come along with it. Perhaps it was why Shinsou told him his casual outfit was just fine and that bringing a gift would be nice but not entirely necessary.

Rats, Kaminari thought, I wasn’t supposed to think bout all that today.

There was a moment in rehab where Kaminari had been talking to his therapist about his tendency to avoid. He wasn’t the type to face things head-on until he absolutely had to and alcohol had been just another mode of escapism for a long time. It was moments like these that he realized his brain wasn’t built for constant avoidance; he’d find that the more he tried not to think about something, the more likely it’d be for the thought to haunt him and return day after wretched day with no retreat. 

He’d thought Shinsou to just be one of these obsessions, a thought he was trying so hard to dismiss that it kept coming back. He couldn’t tell whether he loved Shinsou or whether his mind was just that screwed up that he’d interpret any sort of kindness as love. Kaminari felt like even more of a fool sitting in the passenger seat of the old pick-up truck with yellow peonies in his arms and clementines rolling around at his feet.

He had to say something. He had to have an answer, even just a fraction of one. The car was slowing down and this might be his only chance.

“Hit—” Kaminari began.

Shinsou interrupted him unintentionally.

“This is it.”

Kaminari glanced up from his lap just in time to see the car pull into a spot in front of—

a cemetery?

“Wait,” Kaminari mumbled.

Shinsou was already reaching over to fetch the lattice bag of clementines, his other hand resting on the door handle. Kaminari was too dumbstruck to move, his lips parted and his brow furrowed in momentary confusion. He looked back out to the cemetery once more to make sure he’d actually seen it right.

Sure enough, rows upon rows of stone altars were lining the paths inside, an archway guarding the entrance. Stacked up along the front were wooden buckets near a spout and spigot. Kaminari had to clamber out of his seat while keeping a gentle hold on the flowers to catch up to Shinsou who was sauntering confidently towards the archway.

A sick feeling was stirring in Kaminari’s stomach, unanswered questions he’d never even considered whizzing by in his mind. 

Dead?

His parents were—

dead?

Kaminari eventually met up with Shinsou who was crouching at the spigot with the wooden bucket, filling it with an appropriate amount of cool, clear water. Kaminari’s mouth opened to say something, but words were more difficult than before, they all stuck up in his throat in protest. Thus, he watched on in disbelief as Shinsou, with bucket, ladle, and oranges in one hand and his cane grasped in the other, walked beneath the tall wooden archway.

They didn’t speak as they followed the winding paths. Kaminari was grateful for the chirping birds in the willows and the crickets emerging from their daytime slumber to hum a monotone melody. He swallowed thickly, forcing deep breaths in and out of his chest as they passed altar after altar laden with framed pictures, fresh flowers, and still smoking incense. Kaminari didn’t find hanging around the dead to be a sort of hobby, so the experience always felt so foreign when he did end up doing so. 

Shinsou looked unfazed by the whole situation. Though he was a foot or two ahead of Kaminari, his shoulders seemed relaxed and his steps were neither hurried nor sorrowfully slow. He began to slow as they neared what Kaminari assumed to be the proper altar, hearing the clink of Shinsou’s cane hit the ground.

He resisted looking to his right for as long as humanly possible, but as Shinsou crouched with extra care to his knee and began to set the oranges atop the stone, Kaminari knew that he would have to gaze upon it eventually.

And it was as terrible as he’d expected.

The base of the altar was elongated to allow for two separate pillars, both engraved with a shared family name followed by their given name. His mother was on the left, his father on the right. In the center was an empty vase, likely for the flowers that Kaminari was holding onto a little too tightly. In front of the vase were two photo frames: the left photo was of a beautiful woman with long silver hair and tired-looking eyes, a little violet-haired boy in her arms. The right photo was that same woman beside a tall, slender man from whom Hitoshi inherited his wild, violet locks and bright purple eyes. It was his mother who’d given him the slim contours of his cheeks and nose and the gentle smile he rarely showed.

Shinsou wiped the raindrops from the fronts of the frames to better show his parents’ faces. He gingerly set the clementines around it, one by one. Then, he used a sponge from the bucket to scrub the outsides of the stone pillars where dirt and grime had begun to collect. Water dribbled down the surface, Shinsou’s hand maintaining a harsh grip around the sponge, but a gentle touch atop the altar. Droplets traveled down the spaces between Shinsou’s knuckles and down onto his wrist as he cleaned, Kaminari could almost feel the sensation on his own hands.

Shinsou shuffled a bit so he could attend to his father’s side next. Kaminari evaded him by walking behind and crouching before the tall white vase. Carefully, without making too much noise, he untied the twine and unwrapped the brown paper. The stems of the peonies were a vibrant green, the petals and even more brilliant yellow and crimson. Starting with just two, Kaminari placed the flowers into the vase. Then, he added two more. He repeated his process until all the flowers were sitting in the vase, standing proudly between the stone pillars. 

A few moments later, Shinsou ladled a bit of water into the vessel so the flowers would live for some time. He’d finished cleaning his father’s grave, and they’d done all their preparation without saying a word. Still, every time Kaminari looked over at Shinsou, his eyes flashed no semblance of sadness and his lips were curled in what could almost be considered a smile.

He reached over to pull an incense stick from a nearby pot and set it in the holder, extracting a lighter instantly from his back pocket to light it. Shinsou was skilled in igniting the end, a ribbon of smoke was rising from it before Kaminari even knew it. 

Shinsou kneeled before the altar and spooned a ladle-full of water atop both pillars. As he did, Kaminari stumbled in kneeling beside him, unsure of what exactly he should do. In one fluid motion, Shinsou placed his palms together and ducked his head just slightly towards the altar before him.

“Hey, mom,” he whispered, “hey, dad.”

Kaminari just watched on, a knot of tears already forming in his throat at the sight. Shinsou flashed a small smile.

“It’s been a while,” he continued, “I know I promised I’d come back each December but last year was—hard.”

How long had they been dead if they didn’t know about Tokoyami? How long had they been gone for Shinsou to visit ‘every’ year?

“I struggled a lot, but I always felt better when I thought of you,” Shinsou told them.

Kaminari searched for some kind of year to be etched into the stone, but all he could see were the characters of their names and a phrase across the base. He leaned in just slightly to read it:

We are no more than candles in the wind.

“Oh, and Dad, I finally rescued all your boat models from the storage place,” Shinsou chuckled, “sorry it took this long.”

Kaminari was only half listening now as the phrase etched upon the stone was looping endlessly in his mind. He imagined himself as one of these candles, the wind whipping the flame all about, the ease with which it could extinguish him, the likelihood that it will allow him to burn down into nothingness, instead. But the feeling was there, the sensation that Kaminari wasn’t in control of anything in his life—he was at the mercy of the constant, eternal breeze.

“But I thought you’d like to meet Denki,” Shinsou hummed.

The sound of his name jolted Kaminari back to reality. Instinctively, he folded his hands and gazed up at the pillars as if he were looking in the eyes of Shinsou’s parents.

“Hi,” he eked out.

“He saved my life.”

Kaminari’s head turned instantly, the knot in his throat threatening to burst in a million tears. The sky above was slowly spotting with clouds, an uncharacteristic development after they’d already had their afternoon rain. 

He saved my life.

He saved my life.

“Hitoshi,” Kaminari whispered.

Slowly, Shinsou turned his head with a gentle expression. His eyes were misted with some mixture of mourning and contentment which Kaminari had never felt before. His mouth stretched into a kind smile, his hands still pressed together.

“It’s true,” Shinsou said lowly.

Kaminari resisted the urge to shake his head, “But you saved my life, too.”

“Also true.”

Gazing down at the ground below him, Kaminari thought back to the words that had stuck with him since his impromptu trip to New York:

Life, to me, is just broken people meeting broken people and them vowing to care for one another. 

That’s it.

But somewhere in the process, he’d changed a fundamental word of the proverb:

Love, to me, is just broken people meeting broken people and them vowing to care for one another.

That’s it.

Life, love—

in the end, is there really any difference?

Soon, Shinsou finished updating his parents on all that had gone on in the past year and a half. Their hands parted from one another, and they were left sitting before the grave site, waiting for the incense to burn down.

“When did they die?” Kaminari mustered the courage to ask.

Shinsou sighed, “Summer before my first year at UA.”

Realization flooded over Kaminari. Perhaps that was why Shinsou never went home for school breaks, he didn’t have a home to go back to.

“How?” 

To that, the right corner of Shinsou’s mouth rose into a gentle smirk and his eyes swept down to the ground.

“Car crash.”

Kaminari felt frozen in his place. The blade of grass he’d been fiddling with for the past ten minutes became immobile in the wake of his surprise. 

Two car accidents,

that was all it took to take everything from Shinsou.

Kaminari couldn’t even imagine how devastated he’d be if both of his parents died at the same time. Perhaps it wasn’t so much that he couldn’t imagine it as much as it was that he didn’t want to. His heart ached. His chest felt like it was caving in on itself. 

“I think when I was so injured after Tokoyami’s death, I saw it as some sort of fate, that I was supposed to go how my parents did,” Shinsou murmured.

Kaminari listened in with pursed lips, trying desperately not to cry.

“I told myself that if no one came, I was just gonna let the injuries or the starvation kill me,” he admitted, “but then—”

It didn’t have to be said. Kaminari knew the exact moment Shinsou was referring to. 

In that moment, Kaminari did realize the weight that was on him, the fact that he was part of the reason that Shinsou was still alive today. But the burden wasn’t an expectation, it was an acknowledgment of the ebb and flow of life. He hadn’t gone to Shinsou’s that first day with any sort of anticipation other than to see him; it was almost as if the wind itself had carried him there.

Perhaps it is not so much our job to attend to every ill that could possibly exist, but to trust that the universe will put us in the exact right places at the exact right times. 

“Taking you in after you came back from rehab was the least I could do,” Shinsou whispered.

It was then that Kaminari felt like one of those early humans, the ones who’d looked at their fellow human injured on the side of the path, unable to move forward, and feeling a pang of sorrow in their heart. He wondered how they’d patched one another up, if they’d tried to create wrappings or splints to get them moving forward once more. 

Or, perhaps, they told the rest of the group to go ahead and simply sat with their incapacitated friend, talking to pass the time and help them forget the pain. If there was no talking, then they must’ve just sat in that comfortable silence that Kaminari now knew well. Perhaps they kissed one another’s wounds and slept with limbs tangled and wound, accepting death with grace—if they were together, then nothing else mattered.

It could be that he and Shinsou were now trucking forward in pursuit of their healthier, more successful friends.

Or, it could be that they were huddled together in uncharted lands, choosing to be with one another above all else.

“Thank you,” Kaminari said clearly.

No more apologies for things he couldn’t control or redirections of genuine compliments, Kaminari was ready to bear it all.

“Anytime,” Shinsou replied with a blithe smile.

Once the incense had burned down, Shinsou tossed it into another pot which accompanied the one which had supplied the fresh stick while Kaminari gathered the clementines in his arms. They plodded back to the entrance to dispose of their empty wooden bucket, ladle, and sponge. 

As they settled themselves back into the truck, Shinsou’s phone buzzed and he had to fish the thing out of his pocket. He read the message for a silent moment with a furrowed brow before his features relaxed, and he stifled a laugh.

“Well, I owe you twenty bucks,” he hummed.

Kaminari knitted his brow, “What?”

Shinsou displayed his phone in front of Kaminari’s face so he could read the message he’d just received from Todoroki Shoto.

Todoroki: I think I would like to ask Midoriya out to dinner. How might I do that? Where should I take him if he says yes? What should I do if he says no?

Todoroki: As you can see, I am not well-versed in all of this.

A smile crept on Kaminari’s face too, something genuine and warm. 

“Told you it’d take him a while,” he teased.

Shinsou tilted his head in acknowledgment as he pulled his phone back and typed a thoughtful response, a pink tint washing over his ears.

The drive home felt much quicker than the drive there, probably due to the lack of Kaminari’s panic and Shinsou’s efficient driving. As they sped back towards town, the little clouds in the sky became big gray blobs blocking the sun. Even Shinsou commented on how strange it was for a storm to come so late in the afternoon. Kaminari worried that they may not be able to see the sunset, because of it.

When they finally reached the bungalows, Kaminari was checking the sky obsessively for any semblance of rain, but none came. Even as they walked back towards the beach, he would flinch at any sort of change in the breeze or a sudden chill, thinking it was the first drop of the shower.

The beach was something out of Kaminari’s wildest dreams. To the left was a clay-red cliff topped with lush green grass. Below it was a patch of more yellowish grass bordered by white speckled sand. At the meeting of the water and the shoreline, stones of various sizes and colors lined the meeting place and bled into the ocean. In the distance, a spire of rock jutted out from the deep blue water against which small, tentative waves lapped and crashed.

Kaminari always needed a moment to take it all in, and Shinsou always allowed it. He’d stand at the edge of the rocks and inhale deeply, feeling all the salt and brine hit the inside of his nostrils and fill his chest with a characteristic warmth. Even with the sun hidden behind dark clouds, the sensation was the same. The wind was a bit more blustery due to the stormy conditions, but not a drop of rain had fallen in nearly an hour.

Yet, as Kaminari stood at the edge of the water with his hands at his sides and his nose stuck up in the sea breeze, he felt his chest falter, for a moment.

Shinsou was standing nearby, he could feel his presence, but there was something hanging between them, an unanswered question which had been brewing within Kaminari for far too long. Because Shinsou wasn’t as much of an enigma now as he was before, Kaminari knew that he never did anything without a reason. Shinsou was careful, meticulous, attentive. Kaminari turned with an almost pained expression and parted his lips.

“Why did you take me here?” He asked.

The wind whipped their clothes all over, their shirts would alternate between sticking against the planes of their stomach and billowing out into a round shape, leaving a good bit of space between their bodies and their adornments. Shinsou leaned against his cane, brow furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

Kaminari sighed, “Why did you take me to your hometown? You could’ve gone alone.”

To that, Shinsou smiled. He gazed out into the ocean for a moment, noticing how the stormy conditions had led to taller, stronger waves. Kaminari felt his eyes begin to dry out as he waited in anticipation for Shinsou’s reply.

“I wanted you to see,” he eventually said.

Kaminari knitted his brow, “See what?”

Shinsou paused again, but for only a moment.

“How little life can be.”

Kaminari’s brow furrowed even more in confusion. He took one step closer to Shinsou, wondering if he’d even heard the man right. Shinsou’s hair was blowing in the wind, plastering against his face and tickling his long, thick lashes. Kaminari swallowed thickly.

“You’ve always been so concerned with how you measured up to other kids at UA,” Shinsou explained, “you thought you had to achieve great things to be worthy of existing.”

Kaminari’s heart began to beat in a strange rhythm, his mouth now as dry as the sand beneath his feet. He thought back to his breakdown in the UA bathroom, how small he felt in comparison to all his classmates and how guilty he felt for not doing great things like they all did. 

Perhaps he’d never thought about it the way Shinsou was saying, but it was all true.

Kaminari truly believed that if he was not great, he was nothing at all.

“But living a little life isn’t bad,” Shinsou insisted, “you can be just as content as you would be as the number one hero.”

“I just—” Kaminari stammered, “I feel like I’m letting everyone down.”

“Who?” Shinsou took a step forward, “Who are you letting down?”

Kaminari really thought. Maybe Ochaco—but she had never expressed any kind of disappointment in his state, not even when they’d run into each other at the grocery store. Perhaps Midoriya—but he didn’t seem fazed at all by Kaminari’s appearance at breakfast. He knew that Sero and Bakugou and Kirishima were his friends before anything else. It could be Aizawa—

Kaminari glanced up to see Shinsou watching him with a matter-of-fact expression.

Oh, Kaminari thought, that’s not what he meant.

“Myself,” Kaminari admitted.

Shinsou nodded and gazed once more out into the vast ocean. Compared to the lolling waves, the two of them were impossibly small, grains of sand upon the never-ending shore. They were stones jutting out into the waves, flooded constantly with the power of the universe. They were only special to each other, only significant in relation to the size of their own lives. 

Small.

Insignificant.

But still alive.

“Denki,” Shinsou hummed, “it’s not about the life you live, it’s about the people you live it with.”

Kaminari would’ve eventually arrived at the exact same conclusion on his own, but he appreciated Shinsou’s premonition. His mouth turned up in this involuntary smile, the very last bits of his lifelong burden beginning to chip away and float to the ground. He almost felt like crying—Kaminari had spent his entire life trying to be great at the expense of feeling good. Either way, he would’ve failed and died disappointed. 

His shoulders ached so much. All he ever wanted was to be loved, and if he crawled his way to the top, he thought it would be some sort of guarantee. Who could ever love him when he was sitting at rock bottom? Who could ever gaze upon him and deem him worthy?

It’s not about the life you live,

it’s about the people you live it with.

This was supposed to be the day where Kaminari didn’t think about it. He was supposed to relish in his final moments with Shinsou because after he revealed his true feelings, he’d be all alone, again. But he couldn’t wait a moment longer, he couldn’t stand around guessing and wishing when his time could be so short. He’d wasted year after year simply wanting and never getting. 

Even if it ruined everything, the simple knowledge that he’d done it would be enough to stave off the sorrow for a while. 

He’d rather lose Shinsou than go one more day living a lie.

“Hitoshi,” Kaminari’s voice shook.

Shinsou gazed gently at him, his eyes thin and gleaming, his mouth pulled up into a small smile. He was so beautiful, even with the blue cast of the stormy sky over his pale face. Kaminari almost gave up right then, his entire body buzzing with anxiety and his heart beating faster than it ever had before. But he didn’t let himself do it, instead forcing a thick swallow and willing the next words to appear on his tongue.

“I love you,” he blurted out.

Shinsou’s expression didn’t change. Kaminari continued, afraid that stopping might give Shinsou a chance to think about his admission before he had a chance to explain himself.

“I know we’ve been living together and acting like a couple for a while but we never actually talked about it,” Kaminari rambled, “and it’s eating me alive that I don’t know how you feel.”

Shinsou still watched on with a neutral expression. Kaminari felt as though he was going to hurl right at the man’s feet, his heart caught up in the middle of his throat was the only thing stopping it. His hands began to clam up, vulnerable to the whistling wind around them.

“And if you don’t love me back, I’ll understand, I just have to know,” Kaminari’s voice rose, “and everything with Tokoyami, it hasn’t been that much time and you said you felt pressured by everyone to be a more romantic couple and I didn’t want you to feel that way with me!”

Kaminari knew he wasn’t making sense anymore, but he was having trouble stopping now that the words were flowing freely from his lips. It felt like an unconscious outpouring from the center of his chest where he’d been holding everything up for the past five years, all gunk and sewage and guilt and torment.

He spent every day trying so hard, particularly in the name of love. He gave away vast fortunes for it and exhausted himself nearly to death for it, he cried on his best friend’s shoulder in his underwear and broke into an apartment for it. All Kaminari ever did was try.

But must we really try for love at all times? Is it not enough to bask in it, feed off of it, to trust that we have been created for it?

Though the shape and shade may change, love is a promise almost as certain as death, Kaminari just didn’t know it yet.

“But I love you,” he repeated, “I’ve loved you for years and I want to be with you, I just didn’t know how to say it, and if you don’t love me back, I’ll get over it but please—”

Kaminari’s lips froze in place, eyes misting and throat clenched. 

“Please love me back,” he said in a shuddering whisper.

It came out as a plea, a last ditch attempt at trying and appealing to the one thing Kaminari wanted more than anything in the world.

Shinsou was still looking at him with the same expression as when he’d started, but his features were slowly changing, the corners of his lips tweaking up and the bags beneath his eyes crinkling.

And then, he laughed.

The first one was hearty, it echoed through the empty beach. Then followed another and another and another until he was nearly doubled over in his own fit of giggles, tears pricking at his eyes and a wide smile spread across his face.

Kaminari stood there in utter disbelief at such a strange response. His heart was still beating rapidly and his entire body had gone into some sort of stasis while waiting for a response, so it was slowly whirring back to life. Was Shinsou laughing at him? Was he about to reject him?

Shinsou leaned back up and stared at Kaminari with a grin, tear stains trailing down his cheeks.

“What in the world have I done to make you think I don’t love you?” He asked breathily.

Kaminari shook his head in disbelief.

“What?”

Shinsou chuckled, “I’m bad with words so I try to let my actions speak for me but—did you really think I didn’t want to be with you?!”

Kaminari usually didn’t like when people raised their voices at him, but Shinsou wasn’t trying to accuse him of anything, he was just expressing his own disbelief in the whole situation.

“I thought we were together this whole time!” He cried.

Shinsou rarely lost his composure, this much Kaminari knew, so watching his devolve into a puddle of laughter, his hair whipping all about and his shirt riding up his stomach in the wind and a crazed smile plastered over his face, Kaminari wondered who else had seen such a rare side of Shinsou Hitoshi.

“So you love me?” Kaminari asked.

Shinsou gazed intently at him, “You always just needed me to say it?”

Kaminari felt like a child now that the solution had been boiled down, but all he could think to do was nod. The moment he did, Shinsou had dropped his cane into the sand and cupped Kaminari’s cheeks with his hands, his breath huffy and quick and his palms sweatier than Kaminari expected. Shinsou’s eyes were deep and sincere, and his smile only faded to allow for a more enamored expression.

Kaminari’s heart nearly gave out from beating so quickly. He wondered if he could die just like this, waiting.

“Then here,” Shinsou hummed,

“I love you,”

he planted a kiss on Kaminari’s right cheek,

“I love you,”

then one on his left cheek,

“I love you.”

The final kiss was placed on the space between Kaminari’s eyes, one where Shinsou could pull back from it and ensure they were looking at each other. Kaminari felt his eyes well up with tears, joy spreading through his chest like a crashing wave.

It was almost like a dream,

but Kaminari had dreamed about this enough to know that it was entirely real.

“I loved Tokoyami, I think about him every day,” Shinsou admitted, “but I also love you and think about you every day.”

A tear did eventually fall down Kaminari’s cheek, he couldn’t help it. He leaned further into Shinsou’s touch while still keeping himself steady for him to stay upright.

“But losing him was so hard,” Kaminari reasoned, “what if something happens to me?”

Shinsou sighed. 

“I would endure the pain all over again if it meant that I got to love you for just one more day.”

In a flash of courage, Kaminari pulled Shinsou towards him and enveloped him in a desperate kiss, one that tasted of longing and desire which had been festering for years. He had never been the one to initiate before now, but as his hands grasped the firm sides of Shinsou’s arms and held on for dear life, he felt all his anxieties begin to slip away like water dribbling down his back. 

There comes a time in your life where you last resort becomes your only way out. It’s all trenches, elbow deep in thick mud crawling day and night towards god knows where, but it all exists with an expectation that there’s something better on the other side.

As Kaminari emerged, body weary and scarred and beaten from the relentless journey, he squinted at the sight of the sun and relished in the fact that he’d been right all along—

he was crawling towards something better,

and it was all worth it.

He never could’ve known it in the center of it all, rain beating down upon his back and hands frozen in fear, but he’d had no choice other than to keep going—well, he could’ve always given up, but then he’d never know.

How good it felt to know,

how good it felt to have Shinsou holding onto him.

Small and insignificant in relation to the universe,

but unbelievably magnificent and precious to one another.

Shinsou’s hands carded up into Kaminari’s short hair, slicking it back with his palms in a calming way. It was what Kaminari always wanted, so the mere touch made his bones melt into one another. They were still lip-locked, refusing to let go even for a second.

We are no more than candles in the wind.

When the day came that Kaminari would become a puddle of wax and a mere centimeter of wick, he hoped that Shinsou would be the very last thing he ever saw. 

“I love you,” he whispered against Hitoshi’s lips.

Another kiss, then another, like they were making up for lost time.

And Kaminari knew that he could’ve said it long ago, those three fateful words. He could’ve uttered it when his hands were holding Shinsou’s wet, bathing face or the moment he’d opened the door after Kaminari decided to come crawling back, but it wouldn’t have had the same effect, it wouldn’t have bore the same meaning.

Sometimes love is a growing thing, it begins as a weak and frail child needing constant attention, then it eventually grows into something that can care for itself, simply living being enough effort to maintain it. And with growing up comes courage and understanding, if Kaminari hadn’t waited, he wouldn’t have understood like he did now.

Even in his fretting and avoidance, the universe had made good of it.

And if good could come of that,

then it could come of anything.

That, Kaminari knew for sure.

Three years passed.

Kaminari was sat at his desk as the clock on the opposite wall struck four.

Outside, he could hear the rolling waves and cawing gulls, even from such a distance. He peered at the sky to make sure that the afternoon rain had truly passed before returning to his almost cleared desk. He shuffled a few papers together and stuck them into his bag for safekeeping before noticing a figure leaning against his door frame.

“I’m here to see the school counselor,” the man joked.

Kaminari smiled, “C’mon in.”

Shinsou hobbled in, leaned his cane against the front of Kaminari’s desk, and settled himself into one of the comfy armchairs that faced the desk.

Kaminari folded his hands teasingly, “Now what seems to be the problem?”

Shinsou pursed his lips then sighed, committing fully to the bit.

“Y’see, I’ve got this boyfriend back home who swears the washing machine is eating his socks,” he teased, “but then he refuses to match them when he takes his laundry out of the dryer like I tell him to.”

Kaminari hummed, pouting his lips in an exaggerated manner.

“Sounds like your boyfriend has a point,” he replied, “that machine seems pretty evil.”

Shinsou’s teasing face fell into a more matter-of-fact expression.

“Match your socks,” he said flatly.

Kaminari sighed, “Fine.”

A smile spread across Shinsou’s face. Kaminari hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and proceeded to stand.

“Shall we?”

With a nod, Shinsou stood up and fetched his cane to exit the office, as well. Kaminari turned once they were both out and locked the door behind him before they began their walk down the short hallway. 

Kaminari rounded around to Shinsou’s left side so they could interlace their fingers.

“How were the kids today?” Kaminari asked.

“Insane,” Shinsou groaned, “it’s like they can smell summer coming, they don’t even need a calendar.”

“Summer when you live on an island is a little more enticing, I’ll give them that,” Kaminari chuckled.

They exited through the front doors of the school and began their usual trek off the school grounds and onto the sidewalk which cut through the town.

Three years ago, Shinsou had decided to sell Dark Horse to Monoma which gave him and Kaminari just enough money to put a bid in on a house in his hometown. The moment they’d stepped back into that old apartment, they both knew that they didn’t belong there anymore—in some ways, they’d outgrown the place. So, within the month, they’d packed up their things and moved into a little cottage on the island, close enough to the beach where Kaminari could go and breathe in the salty air whenever he liked while also being close enough to the school that they could walk to and from work each morning.

It was nothing impressive, the work they did. Kaminari had gone back to school for a bit to get certified to be a school counselor using his prior Psychology degree while Shinsou had taken Aizawa’s advice to become a teacher. Not that there was anything special about fifth grade, but he loved teaching them more than he let on. And his favorite part was always telling some wild story about what happened to his leg at the beginning of each new school year. As far as Kaminari knew, Shinsou had been bitten by a shark, caught in a wood chipper, and cursed by a witch, so far.

It was a little life,

but it was still good.

As they strode down the street, the waning spring sun beat down upon them and hailed a warm breeze through their hair and clothing. Kaminari had let his blonde locks grow out almost enough to tie it up while Shinsou had decided to maintain his hair so as to not end up too much like Mr. Aizawa. They always held onto each other rather loosely, but only because they knew neither of them was going anywhere the other couldn’t. 

Waves rolled in the distance. Kaminari smiled and inhaled deeply, feeling the sunlight kiss the tip of his nose and each individual freckle that had cropped up since living there. Their weeks were simple, work then home for dinner and bed and trips to the lake on the weekends. Every once in a while, they would drive back into the mainland to see Sero, Bakugou, and Kirishima, and they’d always take an hour to just sit in front of that old apartment complex and reminisce.

“Now that I’m thinkin’ about it,” Shinsou would say, “the fact that just anyone can walk in is kind of a security problem.”

Kaminari would chuckle, “Yeah, imagine if I’d just robbed you instead.”

“Now you just rob me of my good sweatpants.”

“I like when they bunch up at my ankles!”

“Then I’ll buy you some.”

Then, Kaminari would always sigh and pout.

“It’s not the same.”

Monoma seemed well enough. Now that he owned Dark Horse, he was making a lot more money and talked about working more closely with UA, something about reparations. Kaminari had met with him alone on one of their trips to the mainland just to be sure that he was alright, especially now that he and Shinsou were together.

Monoma just smiled and leaned back in his seat.

“Don’t worry about me,” he hummed.

Kaminari sighed, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Monoma said flatly, “we weren’t meant for each other, it’s no big deal.”

Kaminari sat there with an insistent expression, waiting out the silence to ensure that Monoma had nothing else to say.

“Y’know who I did sign on just last week?” Monoma quirked a brow.

“Who?”

He wiggled his brows, “Yuuga.”

“No way,” Kaminari protested.

“Said he was looking for an agency,” Monoma threw up his hands, “I just gave him my business card.”

Kaminari looked at him with a narrowed, suggestive expression. Monoma just watched with a sly grin.

“I’m takin’ him out for dinner next week to talk technicals,” he hummed.

Kaminari mused, “Dinner, huh?”

Monoma lifted his brow once more and stared out the window on the adjacent wall of his office.

“I do have a thing for French food,” he teased.

Kaminari felt much better after that conversation; hell, it must’ve happened two years ago now. Time seemed so incredibly slow when he was with Shinsou, but he’d find the days passing by him faster than he thought possible. Their love began as something small, a series of ‘yes’ and ‘soon’ and ‘maybe’ that all stacked up upon one another and eventually culminated in a sort of comforting ebb and flow which they now rode with no resistance. Kaminari spent the first few months believing that he was being duped or that he was part of some grand scheme which would eventually hurt him. But whenever he got caught up in the storm of thoughts, Shinsou would walk towards him and hold his head in his hands, palms blocking sound from his ears, and give him a stern teacher look—a silent and gentle command to stop.

There were still days of uncertainty. There were still mornings where the right side of Kaminari’s body would ache. There were other days where Kaminari would stare while passing the bar or watch a glass of wine be carried to a table at the restaurant that wasn’t his, but he’d always take the next moment to stare out towards the ocean, then at his love and realizing that none of it was worth losing in exchange for an old, worn-out obsession.

As the pair reached their home tucked behind trees and brush, Kaminari took the initiative, like he always did, to unlock the front door and allow Shinsou inside before watering the tomato plants that lined the front. 

The house was nothing impressive, slatted wood painted a stormy blue with the same shuttered windows that were at Mrs. Nakamura’s place. The living room and kitchen sort of bled into one another, small and unassuming, but full of shells and rocks they’d collected from the beach and pictures of their friends and family. There was a photo of Tokoyami right by the door, Shinsou would greet it every time he walked inside. Eventually, Kaminari started doing the same.

They’d splurged on a comfortable couch to fuel their love of watching movies together. Their mugs sat together beside the sink, one black ceramic and the other a sage green. In a vase on the dining table, a bunch of blue cornflowers were swapped out each week to ensure they were always alive. 

As Kaminari shuffled inside, he shed his sport coat and shoes.

“You got something in the mail!” Shinsou called from the bedroom across the hallway.

With a furrowed brow, Kaminari checked the table where Tokoyami’s photo was sitting—he gave it a nod—then saw a small yellow package sitting in front of it. Carefully, he tore it open and shook out whatever was inside into his free hand. It was a sobriety chip—he smiled.

Shinsou re-emerged and peered into Kaminari’s hand, a grin stretching on his face, too.

“Three years,” he hummed.

Kaminari’s chest swelled with pride.

“I’m gonna add it to the wind chime.”

In accordance with his words, Kaminari rustled through a junk drawer to find a ball of string, a pair of scissors, and a piece of strong tape. He slipped out of the door in the kitchen which led to the small screened porch right outside through which he could see the garden he was attempting to maintain and two chairs they always kept there. 

Hanging from the top of the covered porch, visible through the open window above the kitchen sink, hung a makeshift wind chime which was just two sticks with strings tied all over, sobriety chips stuck on at the bottom. Kaminari stuck the new chip between his teeth as he cut a string of twine and tied the end to a free space on the stick. He used the strong piece of tape to attach the chip to the string, running his hand through them just to hear the familiar clink of metal. 

He grinned. The sound was reassurance, a promise he had to make every time the breeze blew through. It wasn’t a very pretty wind chime, but it did what it was supposed to and Kaminari loved it all the same. Perhaps that was true for his life, as well: it was nothing beautiful or flashy, but it served its purpose and Kaminari was deeply in love with it.

Shinsou poked his head through the open door.

“I’m gonna take a shower before we leave,” he said.

Kaminari turned to him, “Okay.”

“Or,” Shinsou stepped towards him and wrapped a suggestive hand around the back of his neck, “I could take a bath and you could come help me again.”

He had this teasing smile that always caused a blush to creep up Kaminari’s neck, but he wouldn’t relent. Thus, Kaminari narrowed his eyes and shoved Shinsou off of him playfully.

“In your dreams,” he scoffed.

Shinsou grinned for a moment before turning and retreating to the bathroom, just like he said he would. Some nights, Kaminari would carry Shinsou from the couch to their room. Some mornings, Shinsou would shave Kaminari’s face. It was the littlest things that had remained with them, even as the past grew further and further away.

An hour or so later, the pair was cleaned up and wearing more comfortable outfits, locking the door behind them and preparing to trek back out onto the main road. They held hands once more, taking in the impending sunset as they strolled down the sidewalk. Both of them greeted familiar passersby, and they even got roped into another fast-paced conversation with Takeda at the fish stand. But it was no matter since they weren’t in any rush and they rather liked having people to talk to. 

When they did reach the restaurant, Shinsou leaned over to Kaminari to whisper something in his ear.

“Okay,” he teased, “maybe we are late.”

Standing at the entrance was a smiling, patient Kirishima with a grimacing, impatient Bakugou who was tapping his foot and checking his watch threateningly. When he caught sight of the relaxed pair, he threw his hands up in defeat.

“Good to see you guys!” Kirishima leaned in for two warm and tight hugs.

Bakugou, however, was glaring at them.

“Twenty minutes?” He asked accusingly.

Kaminari just shrugged.

“We got caught up in conversation,” he admitted.

Bakugou rolled his eyes and jammed his hands in his pockets.

“Island life has rotted both of your brains,” he grumbled.

Kirishima patted his shoulder firmly and lifted his brow.

“Okay, honey,” he hummed.

Bakugou continued to seethe as they walked in, but he didn’t shake Kirishima’s reassuring hand from his shoulder, even as they were directed to their table.

It was a small restaurant, their usual meeting place whenever Bakugou and Kirishima would visit. They served wonderful fish and the owner knew them all by name. The four of them settled into a seat by a large window outside of which Kaminari could watch the ocean. For a few moments, he did, mesmerized by the constant rolling waves and foamy edges which danced along the sand. Whenever he got lost in the sensation, he’d always smile involuntarily and his breathing would slow all by itself. 

He was torn back to reality by Shinsou’s hand resting over his which was sat atop his thigh. Kaminari’s head snapped towards the waitress who was taking their drink order. He stumbled through a water order and chuckled at himself as she walked away, Bakugou and Kirishima already caught in their own little conversation over something on the menu.

Slowly and gently, Shinsou wrapped his hand around Kaminari’s and waited for him to respond with a similar motion. They held onto each other like that often, recognizing that even now, they were just two candles in the wind, waiting and hoping. 

Two broken people who had vowed to care for one another, come hell or high water.

Kaminari Denki had always felt rather small and insignificant. Perhaps it was the reason he lavished care upon friends who didn't ask to be cared for and numbed  his own psyche with addiction. But it certainly wasn't the worst fate he could ever suffer. Rather, he thinks, it was how he always should've lived.

And while to the world their love was somewhat small and insignificant,

Kaminari knew better.

“A justly or unjustly ruined reputation, poverty, disastrous circumstances, misfortune, they all turn you into a prisoner. You cannot always tell what keeps you confined, what immures you, what seems to bury you, yet you can feel those elusive bars, railings, and walls. Is that all illusion, imagination? I don’t think so. And then one asks:

My God, will it be for long, will it be forever, will it be for eternity?

Do you know what makes prison disappear? Every deep, genuine affection. Being friends...loving, that is what opens the prison, with supreme power, by some magic force. Without these one stays dead.

But wherever affection is revived,

there life revives.”

-Vincent Van Gogh

The End

Extra Things :)

I have poured so much love into this work that I wanted to expand a bit on pieces of it that I love and things you might've missed.

- In essence, this story is a manifesto on adulthood and how difficult it can be to let go of a past we're not proud of. Thus, we avoid and run away and numb the pain as best we can until we realize that the only way out is through. Our perception of our failure is always so much bigger and more harrowing than how it actually is, probably because we're so caught up in our own heads. As Van Gogh said, its genuine affection and time with others that breaks us from this prison.

- My favorite chapter to write was Chapter 7: Even Jesus Let His Friends Wash His Feet. I am a sucker for caretaking, as you could probably assume from the premise of this entire fic

- The likelihood of a Tododeku or Monoyama spin-off is very very high, perhaps when December rolls around again...

- Chapter 10 which takes place in the hospital is entitled "The Mirage" while Chapter 18 is entitled "The Lake", essentially signifying all that Kaminari once thought to be unattainable was now real and sitting right in front of him, he could touch it and take hold of it

- In this final chapter, Shinsou gets yellow pansies for his parents' grave which, in flower language, means "thinking of you" while he gets a blue cornflower for Kaminari (also found on their dining table) which means "be gentle with me".

- I think they wait a long time before getting married, maybe until they're in their forties, not because they don't want to but because it doesn't seem necessary. They never plan on splitting up so their marriage is more an excuse to throw a party with all their friends.

- They don't have any kids, but I do think they have a high-maintenance cat who, at the beginning, they jokingly call "Neito" but the name just ends up sticking and now the cat is named after their old friend.

- Shinsou's apartment was #420, their house number now is 69 (because I make the rules)

- Shinsou refuses to let Kaminari listen to the voicemail that convinced him to let Denki clean the apartment, who knows what was said

- if you also read my work frankenstein's monster, yes, it's the same Mr. Hirai

- they danced to this song as the first dance at their wedding (listen to it i'm begging you you'll cry)

- and speaking of their wedding...