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Kaminari was, by all accounts, very bad at keeping secrets. Everyone knew this. He knew this. His friends knew this. Aizawa-sensei probably had it written down in some file somewhere under “liability concerns.” It was such a well-known fact that no one even bothered telling him secrets anymore. And while it could be a little isolating, Kaminari understood. Secrets were valuable, and he wasn’t exactly a sturdy lockbox.
But sometimes, secrets found him anyway. Against his will. Without warning. And those were the worst kinds of secrets because, quite frankly, he didn’t know what to do with them.
Take, for example, his best buddy Shinsou—a solid guy, dependable and cool. Or so Kaminari had thought. But lately? Lately, he wasn’t so sure. Because Shinsou, his slightly-less-solid-than-before buddy, might actually be cheating. On Bakugou.
Bakugou.
The same Bakugou who would start a fistfight over someone looking at him sideways. The same Bakugou who could—and would—reduce entire buildings to rubble when pushed. Let alone something like this.
So yeah, it was not a great situation.
And to make matters worse, it wasn’t just not a great situation—it was mind-numbingly suicidal. Cheating on Bakugou was the kind of thing someone did when they had a death wish. And that was the exact thought Kaminari wanted to scream at Shinsou, except there was no polite way to ask, “Hey, are you suicidal?!” Especially not when the suicidal action in question was betraying the one person who would absolutely commit war crimes if provoked.
But Kaminari had to give credit where credit was due—against all odds, Shinsou had actually done a pretty decent job of keeping this a secret. He had only picked up on it recently, after all. But the issue still stood: Kaminari now knew. And once he started seeing the cracks, he couldn’t unsee them. Shinsou wasn’t just cheating on Bakugou. No, it was worse. He was cheating on him with Kirishima. Which only made it so, so much worse because now it wasn’t just a betrayal but a full-blown friendship implosion waiting to happen.
For the first forty-eight hours, Kaminari was frozen in place, conflicted beyond belief. On one hand, Bakugou would straight-up murder him if he ever found out Kaminari knew and hadn’t said a word. He could practically see the headline already: “Student Turned to Ash in Explosive Rage—Cause Unknown.”
But on the other hand, if he did tell Bakugou, Shinsou might actually die, and Kaminari didn’t want to be an accessory to that crime. Plus he wasn’t really equipped to explain that to Shinsou’s parents. “Sorry, your son’s dead. My bad.”
And then there was Kirishima. Sweet, earnest Kirishima, who Kaminari wanted so desperately to believe was innocent in all of this. But Bakugou and Shinsou’s relationship wasn’t exactly a secret—how could Kirishima not know?
Then again… what if he didn’t?
Maybe this was all one massive misunderstanding, and he was just jumping to conclusions. What if Bakugou and Shinsou had broken up, and no one had bothered to tell him? Sure, it seemed unlikely—very unlikely—but it wasn’t impossible. He just didn’t know.
All Kaminari knew for certain was that he didn’t want any part of it. None. Zero. He was perfectly fine on the sidelines of this emotional roller coaster. So, in a moment of peak self-preservation, he made a decision—one that he thought was perfectly logical and responsible.
He did nothing. Absolutely nothing. He kept his mouth shut, his head down, and quietly hoped that the secret would self-destruct and leave him out of the explosion zone.
And it seemed like a solid plan at the time. But, of course, Kaminari had forgotten one very crucial detail: he couldn’t keep secrets.
The days dragged on, the weight of it pressing harder and harder, clawing at his brain until it was all he could think about. By the time two weeks had passed, Kaminari was a wreck. He couldn’t do it anymore. Honestly, he didn’t know how he’d survived those two weeks at all because, looking back, they were nothing short of torture.
In those fourteen excruciating days, Kaminari had seen way too much.
He’d seen Shinsou—who he very quickly learned wasn’t all that subtle—napping with his head in Kirishima’s lap while Bakugou was literally in the kitchen cooking for them. The audacity. He’d seen Kirishima and Shinsou sneaking little hand-holding moments during movie nights when Bakugou once again was conveniently not around, their fingers threading together like no one was there. There were lingering touches, stolen glances, and the kind of unspoken tension that practically screamed “we’re in love.”
And then there was Bakugou—completely oblivious and blissfully unaware of the mess happening under his nose. Bakugou, who still treated Shinsou with a kind of gruff, awkward sweetness that Kaminari couldn’t help but feel terrible to watch.
Like how Bakugou made dinners for Shinsou, muttering complaints about how “he’s useless in the kitchen,” but still plating the food carefully, always making sure Shinsou got the bigger portion. Or the way he’d wordlessly hand Shinsou a fresh cup of coffee in the morning, brewed exactly how he liked it, like he’d memorized every little preference without even trying.
And, of course, there were the quieter things too—like when Bakugou would throw a blanket over Shinsou during naps on the couch, muttering something about “idiots catching colds,” but lingering just a second longer to tuck it in around his shoulders. Or how he’d drag Shinsou out for walks when he seemed too tired or distant, gruffly calling it “training” when it was obvious he just wanted Shinsou to get some air.
Kaminari had witnessed it all, quietly withering away under the pressure. By the end of those two weeks, he was a jittery, sweaty mess—jumping at every sound and flinching whenever Shinsou so much as looked at him. He couldn’t meet Kirishima’s gaze without his palms going clammy, and whenever Bakugou so much as grunted in his direction, Kaminari swore he was milliseconds away from blurting out the whole thing just to escape the stress.
The weight of the secret was crushing him.
So maybe he couldn’t be faulted for eventually cracking. Because, truthfully, Kaminari wasn’t built for this level of espionage. He wasn’t even built for keeping regular secrets, let alone ones that involved potential homicide, broken friendships, and this level of drama.
It happened on a day that, not to sound cliché, was just like any other. Nothing special, nothing noteworthy—just another day of Kirishima and Shinsou sneaking behind Bakugou’s back and another day of Kaminari teetering closer to total insanity.
At the time he was sprawled out on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, trying—really trying—to pretend Kirishima and Shinsou weren’t cuddling on the couch directly across from him. But it was almost impossible to ignore when his hyperactive brain refused to cooperate longer than a few seconds.
One sheep, two sheep, three sheep—oh my god, they were right there. How could they? How could they be so obvious? Kaminari’s eyes flickered to the ceiling, desperate to focus on anything else. A small crack caught his attention. If he squinted, it kind of looked like a starburst. Stars were nice. Stars were safe. Stars didn’t—
Wait. Did—did Shinsou’s hand just slip under Kirishima’s shirt? Oh, no. No, no, no. His jaw tightened, his teeth grinding so hard it hurt.
He needed to leave before he had the chance to see anything else. But then—because the universe clearly hated him, and this had to be some kind of sick cosmic joke—they kissed.
Right in front of him.
That was it. That was the final straw.
He jumped up like the ground had caught fire beneath him, his voice cracking as he jabbed a trembling finger at them. “That’s it! I can’t—I can’t do this anymore! You have to tell him!”
The room fell silent as suddenly Kirishima and Shinsou were looking at him like he’d just grown a second head. And maybe he did sound a little deranged, but this situation was enough to drive anyone to it.
“Tell who what?” Shinsou asked, brow arched, his face caught somewhere between confusion and curiosity.
“Tell Bakugou you’re cheating!” Kaminari blurted out. And the moment the words left his mouth, it was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. But only for a moment. Because as soon as the relief settled in, clarity hit him like a truck—the realization that he’d just outed his friends in broad daylight with absolutely no plan for what to do next.
Luckily for him, neither of them reacted poorly. If anything, they just looked even more confused. Shinsou blinked, his brow creasing slightly. “I am?”
“Yes!” Kaminari hissed.
“Uh… with who, exactly?” Kirishima asked, tilting his head in that endearing, dog-like way.
“Are you serious right now?” Kaminari breathed, staring at them with such disbelief that Shinsou couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.
“With you!”
“…Oh,” Kirishima said, the word slipping out instinctively, as if his brain hadn’t fully processed what Kaminari had just said.
But where Kirishima lagged behind Shinsou caught on almost immediately. A slow smirk tugged at his lips before he burst into laughter—loud, unrestrained laughter that shook his shoulders and left him doubling over, clutching Kirishima for support.
It was downright insulting. Here Kaminari was, stressed to the moon and back, and the moment the truth finally slipped out, Shinsou was laughing?
Unbelievable.
"This isn't funny!" Kaminari snapped, throwing his hands up in the air. "This is serious! Bakugou's going to kill you—and then me for finding out!"
It was in that moment that Kirishima seemed to finally catch up, his expression shifting as everything clicked into place. He immediately went into damage control mode.
“Wait—hold on. You think we’re… what? Cheating with each other?”
Somehow, that only made Shinsou laugh harder, wheezing as he clutched Kirishima’s sleeve.
“Yes!” Kaminari nearly shouted, his face twisted with exhaustion and just a hint of panic. “You’re all over each other! You’re sneaking around, cuddling, holding hands—kissing, for crying out loud! I can’t keep this secret for you anymore!”
Finally—finally—Shinsou managed to suck in a shaky breath, wiping at the tears in his eyes as he turned to Kaminari, his voice still uneven. “Kaminari, sunshine, my sweet, but very slow friend… we’re all dating.”
“What?” Kaminari blinked, his brain short-circuiting as the words failed to register.
“All three of us,” Kirishima clarified brightly, grinning like he’d just announced the weather was nice. “Me, Shinsou, and Bakugou. We’re together.”
Kaminari stared. And stared. And if his mouth hung open, so be it—this wasn’t just shocking news. This was the kind of thing that made people faint in dramatic soap opera fashion. “That’s—no. No way. Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Shinsou snorted, brushing back his hair as he grinned. “I thought it was obvious. We weren’t exactly subtle.”
“You and Kirishima weren’t subtle!” Kaminari shot back, pointing accusingly at them. “But Bakugou? That’s a completely different story! I’ve never seen him act that way with Kirishima, ever.”
Shinsou shrugged. “He’s shy.”
That explanation was so baffling, so absurd, that Kaminari squinted at them, his skepticism practically radiating off him. “And you’re not lying to me?”
“Bro, we would never lie to you,” Kirishima chimed in, his face open and honest, his grin so bright it could blind someone. But Kaminari wasn’t buying it. His life was on the line here.
Sighing, Shinsou untangled himself from Kirishima and stretched before crossing the room. “Alright. How about this? Let’s just ask Bakugou.”
Kaminari paled instantly. “What?”
No, they couldn’t do that. They absolutely could not go to Bakugou with this. But before Kaminari could even get a word of protest out, Shinsou had already grabbed his arm with alarming speed and started hauling him toward the hallway.
“No, wait—wait!”
“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Kirishima added cheerfully, following behind them with all the enthusiasm of a puppy seconds away from being rewarded. His broad frame effectively blocked every possible exit. Kaminari was stuck. Trapped.
He swallowed hard as panic began to bubble in his chest. Great, he thought, I’m gonna die today, and it won’t even be my fault.
Reading the sheer devastation on his face, Kirishima patted him reassuringly on the back. “Cheer up, bro. Nothing’s gonna happen.”
“To you, maybe!” Kaminari shot back, voice cracking. “Bakugou has a soft spot for you, but me? I’ll be ash in, like, three seconds!”
“Drama queen,” Shinsou called from up front, snickering as he tightened his grip on Kaminari’s arm like he had any chance of escaping.
“I’m not being dramatic! I’m being realistic!” Kaminari squeaked, his shoes skidding helplessly against the floor as he was dragged closer and closer to his doom.
By the time they reached Bakugou’s room, Kaminari had already prayed to every god he could think of and mentally drafted a very detailed will. He left all his valuables to Jirou and Sero—Sero would take care of his questionable manga collection, and he was certain Jirou would at least carry on his legacy of snarky comments in his absence.
“Bro, open up!” Kirishima called.
There was a muffled curse from inside before Bakugou’s voice rang out, sounding every bit like the Grim Reaper coming to collect his soul.
“What? I’m fuckin’ busy!”
“It’s important!” Shinsou added, his voice coming out far too calm for someone who was about to die. Once again, Kaminari was reminded that his friend might actually have a death wish.
There was a pause, followed by stomping footsteps and the door swinging open with more force than really necessary. Bakugou stood in the doorway, arms crossed and brows furrowed in a way that made it clear he was five seconds away from slamming the door shut again.
“What the hell do you idiots want?”
Kaminari swallowed nervously, taking a small step back. He would’ve liked to move even further, but instead, he just ended up bumping into Kirishima’s chest. Traitor. “H-Hey, Bakugou. Uh, long time no see—”
“Spit it out, Pikachu,” Bakugou barked, cutting him off. “I’m busy, in case you didn’t catch that, I don’t have time for your crap.”
For a fleeting moment, Kaminari imagined a world where he could take that response, quietly excuse himself, and escape unscathed. But, because the universe clearly had it out for him, Kirishima chose that exact moment to give him an encouraging pat on the back—one that felt more like a shove.
“Go on. Ask him.”
“Ask me what?” Bakugou asked, now leaning against the doorframe. The murderous glint in his eyes hadn’t disappeared, but there was a flicker of curiosity there too. Kaminari couldn’t tell if that was a good sign or a bad one— he silently prayed it was the former.
Freezing under Bakugou’s intense gaze, he panicked, his mind scrambling as his words got caught in his throat. “Uh… I just… well…” he stammered.
Beside him, Shinsou rolled his eyes, finally deciding to take pity on his friend and help. Though, “helping” might not be the right word. It was more like shoving him off a cliff. “Sparky over here thinks Big Red and I are cheating on you,” he said oh so hopefully.
Bakugou stared, his crimson eyes narrowing as they flicked between the three of them. And to Kaminari’s credit, he didn’t flinch or bolt, though he did instinctively squeeze his eyes shut, bracing for the shouting—or, worse, the explosion—that was sure to follow. But as the seconds ticked by in silence, curiosity got the better of him. Hesitantly, he cracked one eye open, only to find Bakugou staring at him with a raised eyebrow and an expression Kaminari could only describe as confused irritation.
“What the actual fuck are you talking about?” He growled.
“I—uh—it’s not—I mean—” Kaminari stammered, his mind going blank as he struggled to piece together even a semblance of a sentence.
Had his quirk gone off? It must have, because there was no other explanation for why his brain felt like it was short-circuiting at the worst possible moment. The words were right there, hovering on the tip of his tongue, but every time he tried to grab hold of them, they scattered like static.
In the end, the only thing that managed to escape his mouth was so unhelpful, he winced as soon as he heard it. “They were cuddling and—and kissing!”
Bakugou blinked, his expression shifting into something dangerously unreadable. For a second, Kaminari thought this was the end—this was where he died. But then, to his utter shock, Bakugou snorted, his lips curling into a smile.
“You’re an idiot,” he said flatly, glaring at Kaminari like he couldn’t believe how stupid he was. “Of course they were. We’re dating, dumbass. All three of us.”
“Seriously?” Kaminari asked hesitantly, his voice withering just a bit. “Like… for real, for real? No jokes, no exaggerations, no me being dumb this time?”
He huffed. “What part of that did you not understand? Do I need to slow it down for you? Me. Shinsou. Kirishima. Together. Got it?” He said, punctuating each word with a pointed look, like Kaminari was a particularly dense student who needed extra tutoring.
“Told you, bro!” Kirishima chirped from behind him, and even without turning around, Kaminari could practically feel the grin on his face. Somehow, Kirishima’s usually harmless smiles didn’t seem so innocent anymore.
“So… you’re saying… all this time…”
“Yes,” Shinsou snorted, his lips curled into an amused smirk. “We’re dating. All of us. Don’t hurt yourself thinking about it too hard.”
Well, it was far too late for that now. He’d already endured more than a few panic attacks over the past few weeks. He doubted this could do much more damage, but even so, he was still caught off guard. This was really a development he had never considered.
Kaminari stared at Bakugou, blinking as his brain struggled to process everything he’d just witnessed. “I don’t— I don’t even know what to say.”
“Then don’t,” Bakugou snapped, his scowl deepening. “Are we done here or what?”
“Yes?” Kaminari replied, though it came out more like a question. He didn’t feel like this conversation should be over—not yet. There was so much more he needed to know, so many questions burning on the tip of his tongue. But Bakugou clearly wasn’t the one to ask, at least not now, and definitely not while he was in this mood.
“Great,” Bakugou muttered, already turning to slam the door shut in his face. But just before the door closed completely, he paused and glanced back. “Oi, are you two still crashing here tonight?”
“Yep.”
“Of course, bro.”
He nodded, then followed through with his original plan and slammed the door shut, leaving Kaminari standing there, staring at the wood grain with more questions than answers swirling in his head.
Shinsou clapped him on the shoulder, his smirk pure amusement. “Satisfied now?”
“…I think I need to lie down,” Kaminari muttered.
Kirishima laughed, throwing an arm around Kaminari’s shoulders as they walked away. “Hey, look on the bright side—you’re not keeping secrets anymore!”
“Yeah,” Kaminari muttered, still processing. Then, with a sudden frown, he blurted, “Wait—you guys sleep in each other’s rooms?”
“All the time,” Kirishima said with a grin. “Bakugou’s room has amazing air conditioning.”
“Don’t let Aizawa-sensei know, though,” Shinsou added in a quiet voice, as if speaking any louder would summon him out of thin air.
“Don’t tell me that!”
That should’ve been the end of it—chapter closed, story over. Kaminari could finally stop silently dying, pulling out his hair every night, and obsessing over the impossible puzzle that was Bakugou, Shinsou, and Kirishima’s relationship. But, of course, life was never that simple. And instead of finding closure with the answers he’d gotten, he was left with even more questions. The kind that festered in the quiet moments and refused to leave his mind.
And the more he thought about it, the less it made sense. How did the three of them fit together? How could they possibly balance their relationship without someone feeling left out? How could Shinsou and Kirishima put up with Bakugou’s… Bakugou-ness?
Okay, maybe that last one was a little unfair—he was Bakugou’s friend, after all, and he knew the guy had plenty of good qualities. But still… he was Bakugou. The thought of being around his unfiltered rage on a regular basis and thinking, Yeah, I want more of that, completely eluded him. Then again, he wasn’t exactly one to talk—but still.
It all just felt like a massive tangle of knots, and the more he tried to unravel it, the more they seemed to twist and loop into each other, tying up in places that had once seemed so clear. And after the kind of weeks he’d just endured, his curiosity had hit critical mass. He couldn’t leave this alone—not anymore. He had to know.
So, he came up with a plan—a plan that was maybe a little stupid and definitely reckless—but it involved his second-best bud, Sero, so how bad could it really be?
“This is probably the dumbest thing that’s ever come out of your mouth.”
“Hey! Constructive criticism only,” Kaminari whined.
He’d definitely come up with dumber ideas before, but this was probably the most unhinged one in a while—especially considering the high likelihood of death. Then again, maybe it was because he’d already stared the Grim Reaper in the face once today that this seemed perfectly reasonable.
All he had to do was sneak into Bakugou’s room and hide. How hard could that be? Mineta did it all the time and didn’t always get caught… well, not immediately, anyway. Sure, the consequences were often brutal, but Mineta was still alive—beaten black and blue maybe, but alive. And if that little gremlin could survive, so could Kaminari. Probably.
(There was a running theory among the class that Mineta had a second quirk—something to do with cockroaches. After all, they’d seen him fried to a crisp, stepped on, frozen solid, and somehow the guy hadn’t missed a single day of school.)
Sero dragged out a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine, let me rephrase—constructively speaking, I think you’re going to die if you go through with this.”
“Not if you help me!”
He snorted. “No, if I help you, my grave will be right next to yours.”
“Come on, please,” Kaminari pleaded, clasping his hands together. If he had to, he’d drop to his knees and beg. “Just distract them for like five minutes. That’s all I need! I swear no one will even know you were involved.”
“You can’t keep a secret,” Sero pointed out with a raised eyebrow.
Kaminari winced. Okay, well, that was true.
“But this isn’t a secret!” Kaminari protested, throwing his hands up like that would prove his point.
“If my survival depends on it, it most definitely is a secret.”
“Sero,” Kaminari whined, his voice dripping with desperation as he tilted his head, his eyes wide and pleading in what could only be described as his best attempt at a puppy dog look. If he had access to a tiny violin, he’d probably pull it out and play the saddest tune imaginable too.
“What happened to bro code? What happened to sticking together? Remember when you needed a wingman to get with Todoroki? Did I ask questions? No, I did not.”
Sero’s eyebrows knit together, his face contorting like he was fighting off a sneeze. After a long pause, he let out a heavy sigh—the kind that spoke volumes about the questionable decisions he was reluctantly agreeing to. “Fine—”
“Yes!” Kaminari interrupted, practically vibrating with excitement.
“I’m not done,” he said, holding up a hand. “Let’s say I distract them. Then what? You don’t have the key card for Bakugou’s room. How the hell are you getting in there?”
A younger Kaminari, naive and inexperienced, would’ve floundered at that question. But the Kaminari standing here now? A seasoned mischief maker with an arsenal of poorly thought-out plans? Oh, he had that more than covered.
He smirked, pulling out the key card he had gone to great lengths to acquire. He held it up like it was his crowning achievement, the shiny plastic glinting under the hallway lights. “Ta-da!”
It hadn’t come easy. Oh no, this little masterpiece had required months of planning, a mountain of bribes, and an unhealthy amount of pleading with Shinsou and Jirou. Convincing them to help him swipe Aizawa-sensei’s master key card last year had been a feat of near-legendary proportions. They’d almost gotten caught—twice—but against all odds, they’d pulled it off. And ever since then, Kaminari’s mischief levels had been cranked up to twelve
Sero’s eyes widened. “Is that… Bakugou’s key card?”
“It’s a copy!” Kaminari said, a little too proud of himself.
“Do I even want to know how you got that?”
“Nope!” Kaminari replied, way too upbeat for someone holding onto a ticking time bomb like it was a winning lottery ticket. “The less you know, the better for everyone involved. Plausible deniability and all that.”
There was a long pause as Sero weighed his options, glancing between Kaminari’s eager face and the key card like it might explode. Finally, he sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Fine, but if anyone asks, I had nothing to do with this.”
“My lips are sealed!” Kaminari grinned triumphantly before practically shoving Sero toward the hallway. “Now go! Hurry up! It’s almost eight! He’s going to be coming down the hall any second.”
Sero shot him a skeptical look over his shoulder. “Why do you know the exact time Bakugou goes to bed?”
Kaminari blinked at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We all know the exact time he goes to bed.”
“No. No, we don’t,” Sero muttered, the skepticism deepening as he let himself be pushed along. Reluctantly, he trudged off to “entertain” the trio, his footsteps heavy with regret.
The whole situation already felt like a terrible idea. If Bakugou found out about this—and let’s be real, when Bakugou found out about this—Sero wasn’t sure which one of them would end up worse off. Kaminari for the stunt or him for enabling it. Either way, he was pretty sure his survival odds had just plummeted.
It didn’t take long before voices began echoing down the hall. Bakugou’s sharp, gruff tone, Shinsou’s relaxed drawl, and Kirishima’s warm, booming laugh blended together, growing softer with each passing moment. Sero—brilliant, dependable Sero—was skillfully leading them further and further from the hallway, just as planned.
Kaminari smirked to himself. Everyone liked to say he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but in this moment, he felt like a modern-day Nakamura Jirokichi. The timing? Impeccable. The plan? Flawless. He was practically a genius.
Still, there was no time to bask in his fleeting success. He quickly moved toward Bakugou’s room, keeping his footsteps as quiet as possible. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound almost deafening in his ears as he crept closer. Finally, he found himself standing in front of the door, shaky hands gripping the stolen key card like a lifeline.
With a deep breath, he scanned the card over the door’s panel. For a moment, there was nothing, and panic began to creep in—but then, with a faint beep, the lock clicked open. He exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and slipped inside, closing the door as softly as he could behind him.
Once inside, he paused, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. As he glanced around, he couldn’t help but notice just how pristine Bakugou’s room was. It was… unnervingly clean, with no clothes strewn about, no loose papers, and not a single thing out of place. The contrast to Kaminari’s own chaotic space was almost jarring.
Actually, now that he thought about it, he’d rarely been in here. The only two people who seemed to get any real access to Bakugou’s room were Kirishima and Shinsou. Looking around, the signs were obvious. How had he missed it before?
But now wasn’t the time to marvel at his own obliviousness—he needed a place to hide, and fast.
His gaze darted around the room, but his options were… severely limited. The bed offered no cover, and the shelves and furniture were too sparse to conceal anything larger than a dust bunny. Finally, his eyes landed on the closet, its doors slightly ajar, revealing a neatly arranged row of shirts and uniforms.
Perfect.
He hurried over and slipped inside, carefully pulling the doors shut behind him. The closet was just as meticulous as the rest of the room. Clothes were arranged by type and color, and everything smelled faintly of detergent and that spicy, cinnamon scent that seemed to always follow Bakugou.
Kaminari crouched down behind the hanging clothes, trying to make himself as small as possible. The fabric brushed against his cheek as he settled in, knees protesting the awkward position but not enough to make him move. As comfortable as he could manage in the cramped closet, Kaminari strained his ears for any hint of Bakugou’s return. But the only sound meeting him was the soft, rhythmic ticking of a clock on the wall.
Minutes passed, and as the adrenaline began to fade, exhaustion took its place. It had been a long, chaotic day, and the closet was warm, its confined space oddly comforting. He shifted slightly, fighting to stay awake, but the discomfort eventually got the better of him. With a quiet sigh, he leaned back against the wall.
A rookie mistake on his part, as it didn’t take long for his eyelids to grow heavy. The faint hum of voices became a soothing white noise, and before he knew it, his head drooped to the side. Within moments, he was out cold.
Some time later, he was jolted awake by the sharp sound of something cracking. His eyes shot open, heart pounding as he frantically pieced together where he was. Right—the closet. The events of the evening came rushing back, and his stomach dropped.
How long had he been asleep? He couldn’t even begin to guess. Had he been snoring? God, imagine waking up—
He didn’t get to finish that thought because a sound cut through the air—a low, drawn-out moan that made his blood run cold.
Kaminari froze, every nerve in his body screaming at him to stay perfectly still. No way. That couldn’t have been… what he thought it was. Right?
He tried to shake it off, chalking it up to his imagination or a lingering dream. But just as he was about to dissociate entirely, another moan broke the silence, louder this time, undeniably real.
Nope. Nope. Nope, his brain chanted, as if sheer denial could undo whatever horrifying truth was unfolding outside the closet.
Against his better judgment—because, of course, he couldn’t just not know—he leaned forward, slowly, carefully, until his face was almost pressed against the closet door. He squinted through the slats, his breath shallow and his hands trembling at his sides.
It was dark in the room, shadows spilling across the walls and obscuring most details. But the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains offered just enough visibility to make out the shapes of three bodies—three very familiar bodies.
Oh no. Oh no, no, no.
His stomach sank like a rock as his brain fought to process what he was seeing—or, more accurately, what he was pretending he wasn’t seeing. His worst fears were confirmed with every passing second, every faint rustle of fabric, every muffled sound of pleasure that reached his ears.
This cannot be happening.
But it was. And the longer he looked, the more mortified he became. It wasn’t just the act itself—it was who it was. There was no mistaking those silhouettes, those voices.
“F—Fuck,” Bakugou whimpered, his voice shaky and breathless, legs hooked over Kirishima’s broad shoulders. Jesus Christ. He always knew Kirishima was strong—his muscles were impossible to miss in the daylight—but seeing this? The way Kirishima’s hands gripped Bakugou’s waist, so large they looked like they could snap him like a twig? That was something else entirely.
“You’re doing great, kitten,” Shinsou drawled from above, his voice low and syrupy. He leaned over Bakugou, pressing soft, lingering kisses against his forehead and cheek. “Taking him so well.”
Kaminari swallowed hard, his throat dry. He didn’t even know Shinsou’s voice could get like that—deep, husky, smooth in a way that sent shivers down his spine. It was magnetic, and despite his every instinct screaming at him to stop, to shut his eyes, to pretend he wasn’t here, he found himself leaning closer, pressing his face against the slats of the closet door. His breath hitched as he strained to hear better, like some twisted part of him was desperate to absorb every word, every sound.
For a fleeting second, his mind tried to reason with him. You’ll take this to your grave, it whispered. No one will ever know you were here. No one will know you saw this.
But then, fate—or maybe karma—stepped in.
The closet door creaked loudly under his weight, and before he could stop it, his balance shifted. The next thing he knew, he was tumbling out of the closet, crashing to the floor with an unceremonious thud.
The room froze.
“What the fuck was that!?”
“Shit,” Kaminari hissed under his breath, wide-eyed and still sprawled on the floor. His heart pounded in his chest like a drum, and for a moment, he genuinely considered making a run for it.
“Kaminari!?”
"No?"
What were the chances they’d still be friends after this?