echoing my song - thatwasanticlimactic - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia (2024)

Tenya has never known a day of peace in his life.

From aching joints to burning muscles, Tenya’s life is full of pain, and it always will be if his tics have anything to say about it.

His parents say that Tourette’s is just another obstacle life’s thrown at him and that overcoming it will make him stronger.

As a child, he wondered why it was something to overcome rather than work alongside with.

Now that he’s older, though, he gets it.

He’s always wanted to be a hero, wanted to be like his big brother. Heroes are tough and strong and can overcome anything. Tourette’s won’t go away, but, over time, he’s learned how to deal with it.

That’s the closest he’ll ever come to peace.

And now… here he is, standing in front of U.A. with his head held high and compression gloves in his uniform pockets.

He’s going to be a hero.

On the third day of school, Tenya and around half his classmates are lounging around in the classroom before the day begins. He’s talking to Yaoyorozu about his thoughts on yesterday’s homework when Kaminari clears his throat from a couple seats away.

(a weird tingle crawls up Tenya’s throat at the sound, scratching his skin on its way up)

Everyone, Tenya included, turns to look at him, expectantly.

Kaminari doesn’t seem to realize he has everyone’s attention. His eyes are glued to his phone and his fingers tap and slide across the screen aggressively. He’s concentrating so hard that his tongue is poking out of his mouth.

Tenya shrugs and returns to his conversation with Yaoyorozu when he hears it again.

(and, again, the scratching, that tingling is back, he swallows carefully… it’s loud in his ears..)

But, again, Kaminari doesn't seem aware.

The third time it happens, Bakugou snatches the phone from Kaminari and slams his hands on his desk. “What?” he growls.

Kaminari groans, making grabby hands at his phone. “Dude,” he whines, “why’d you do that? I was about to win!”

“I don’t care!” Bakugou yells. “Don’t go around clearin’ your throat like that if you don’t have something to say! You’re interrupting everyone, god!”

For a moment, Kaminari looks confused. Then his eyes widen and he laughs. “Oh, sorry, man! Didn’t realize I was doing it! It’s just one of my tics!” He quickly shoots forwards and grabs his phone from Bakugou. “Just ignore it!”

Tenya's blood freezes. Tics? Does he… is he…

“Tics?” Kirishima asks, head co*cking to the side like a puppy.

Kaminari nods, blinks, and snaps his fingers (about four times).

Tenya’s fingers snap, too.

“Yeah! I have Tourette’s, so sometimes I make sounds or move weirdly. Sorry for the confusion, guys! It didn’t seem like a big deal, so I didn’t bring it up earlier.”

Tenya’s on his feet before he realizes it. “You have Tourette’s?” he asks, looming over Kaminari.

“Uhh, yeah?” Kaminari replies, leaning back a bit. He bites his lip, his eyes dart across the room like he’s looking for an escape and—

Tenya backs away sheepishly, waving his hands in front of him, as he bows deeply. “I apologize for my forwardness, Kaminari-kun! It’s just…” He trails off, searching for the courage to say it after all those years of trying to ignore it. “I also have Tourette’s and I’ve… I’ve never met anyone else who had it before. I was just unprepared.”

Kaminari beams. “Wait, really? Dude, that's so awesome! I haven’t either! We’re, like, tic buddies now! Oh my God, this is so cool!” He’s practically bouncing in his seat, full of so much joy Tenya wants to reciprocate it..

Before he can, though, Tenya cautiously glances around the room. He’s never admitted to having Tourette’s in front of people before. It’s something he keeps quiet about. He doesn’t want it to be an excuse or a distraction or a reason for people to pity him.

He should trust his classmates, trust that hero students won’t react negatively, but Tenya still braces himself for the worst, preparing to defend both Kaminari and himself if need be.

(at least, that’s what he tells himself, anyways, because it’s easier than admitting he worries people won’t want to be around him anymore if they know)

But Bakugou just goes back to grumbling and rudely laying his feet over his desk. In the back corner of the room, Shinsou’s head is resting in his arms. He looked up earlier, when Bakugou started yelling, but it’s back down now. Aoyama and Hagakure are quietly chatting by the windows.

None of them… none of them are looking at him or Kaminari.

It’s almost like they just don’t care.

He should leave it—accept the lack of reaction as good and continue on with his day, but it feels too easy.

“Does it bother any of you?” Tenya asks tentatively, cursing his instinctive need to please everyone.

“What? That you guys have Tourette’s?”

Tenya nods, shoulders hunching as he waits for the worst which is unbecoming, he knows, but if he is to be rejected by his peers, he’d rather it happen now than later. Ah, but what kind of hero is he if he doesn’t even believe the best of his classmates? Instinct is a stain; it takes years of strain and scrubbing to wash it away.

Surprisingly, Bakugou’s the first to speak. “Why the hell would that bother me?” he scoffs, looking at Tenya like he’s stupid. He rolls his eyes, and Tenya’s eyes roll in response, and Kaminari mimics the scoff.

Bakugou glares at him, though it doesn’t have its usual bite.

“Echolalia, baby!” Kaminari grins cheekily and shoots Bakugou with finger guns.

Bakugou mutters something that’s probably very rude under his breath then speaks again. “None of us care that you have Tourette’s, Glasses, Dunface. It’s not like it’ll make you any more annoying than you both already are.”

It’s a backhanded compliment, but a warmth spreads through Tenya’s chest, and he feels like he can breathe again.

“Although Bakugou-kun was aggressive in his support, I wholeheartedly agree with him!” Yaoyorozu pipes up.

“Oui!” croons Aoyama, a sentiment shared by Hagakure if her cheerful, “Yeah!” immediately following means anything.

Shinsou groans from the back as his own form of acceptance, Tenya supposes.

“Dude,” Kirishima says, staring at Tenya and Kaminari with pure, unadulterated awe. “Someday, when you’re professional heroes… someday, you guys are gonna inspire a little kid with Tourette’s… that’s so manly!”

“Aww, thanks, bro!” Kaminari and Kirishima fist bump.

There’s a faint shimmer in Kaminari’s eyes. So faint that Tenya almost doesn’t notice it. But he does, because it’s the same shimmer he feels behind his eyes.

Hope.

Hope that Kirishima is right. That maybe he’ll inspire kids some day, kids who feel alone and like they aren’t capable of greatness.

He’s never thought about it like that before.

The reason he applied to U.A. was to follow in Tensei’s footsteps, because it was expected of him, but Kirishima’s remark, however non-mind boggling it is to him, flips a switch in Tenya’s brain.

And now, he has a selfish reason for becoming a hero. Not because he wants to live up to his big brother or make his family proud or because being a hero is the noble thing to do, but so he can show other kids with Tourette’s that they’re capable of doing anything. That their tics don’t have to be their enemy.

There’s no doubt in Tenya’s mind that something similar to that train of thought is flashing through Kaminari’s head, too.

Their eyes meet for the briefest of seconds, and Tenya sees warmth and passion amidst the shimmer.

And the topic drops.

Tenya turns back to Yaoyorozu, and their conversation continues like it never got interrupted.

Kaminari goes back to his game.

They both sit up a little straighter, and Tenya allows his muscles to relax, even though he knows a relaxed body finds it easier to tic.

He doesn’t feel like he has to hide it.

— —

Apparently, when Kaminari said that Tenya was his tic buddy, he really meant it.

Kaminari kinda sticks to Tenya’s side for awhile. Of course, he’s a sociable person, so he often strays to bother Bakugou or learn Japanese sign language from Kouda.

But, somehow, he always makes his way back to Tenya, even if it’s just for a moment.

It’s lunch time approximately a week and a half since the start of the school year. Tenya usually spends his lunch with Yaoyorozu or Midoriya or Todoroki, but Kaminari asks if he wants to eat with him today.

Although Kaminari’s been sticking close, they haven’t really had time to hang out one-on-one. It feels weird to say, but Tenya’s been trying to figure out how to connect with Kaminari. They aren’t the most compatible people by any means—Kaminari isn’t big on school, nor does he take his studies as seriously as Tenya thinks he should.

Normally, he isn’t the kind of person Tenya would hang out with. But, he has a powerful quirk and has incredible control of it for such a taxing quirk at his age. His poor academic skills shouldn’t dictate his worth by any means.

And, well, Tenya can’t help but feel like Kaminari gets him, in a weird, specific way that no one else does.

So, he says yes, and here they are, sitting underneath one of U.A.’s great trees and eating Lunch Rush’s food together. They were an odd couple for sure, the Funny Man and the Straight Man, Sero jokes on their way out.

“So,” Kaminari says, drawing out the ‘o’, “what’s your story?”

“Hm?”

“You’re Tourette’s story, man!” Kaminari’s head jerks to the side. “A-A-Apple!”

Tenya nods and nods and nods until his chin hits his chest. “I apologize, but I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

The gentle spring breeze tousles his hair and dances on his neck. It’s nice and cool, quite the contrast to the way his body burns.

“I mean, like…” Kaminari inhales about a quarter of his rice in one go, and Iida bites back a reminder to mind his manners. “Like, I found out I had Tourette’s when I was, like, five or six or something. My quirk came in and electricity is kinda disastrous sometimes, heh, so they had to do a lot of tests and stuff.”

Kaminari tilts his head to the side and mutters “you are a houseplant” under his breath. “There aren’t a lot of electric quirks out there, but most of us have ADHD and seizures and Tourette’s, apparently. Something about how there’s too much electricity in our bodies… I don’t know.” He shrugs.

“It was like I was destined to have it or something… anyways. That’s kinda why I wanted to be a hero, I guess. I definitely wanna help people, but I also wanna help myself, man. I wanna use my quirk to help people instead of hurting them… and me.”

Kaminari sniffs and wipes his dry eyes. Perhaps it’s for dramatics, but there’s something real and raw in Kaminari’s eyes that Tenya recognizes.

Tenya blinks. He wasn’t aware that Kaminari’s quirk hurt him. Though, it does make sense. “Whey mode” as his classmates call it, doesn’t seem particularly pleasant, and untamed electricity can be catastrophic.

Perhaps… perhaps Kaminari’s quirk and its side effects make school harder for him. It must be hard to sit still white with electricity constantly running through him on top of Tourette’s.

Tenya picks at the grass below him, rubbing his thumb along the smooth blades. A wave of guilt hits him, slowly, and he drowns in it.

He shouldn’t have judged Kaminari and his ability to focus. He knows how hard it can be to focus with Tourette’s, and he can’t even begin to imagine how much worse it is for Kaminari.

“I know what you’re thinking. Don’t—bluuuuuuuueberry—don’t worry about it,” Kaminari waves him off. He sighs and leans back on his elbows. “I’m used to it, so it doesn’t hurt me anymore.”

“You shouldn’t,” Tenya blurts out. “Uh, shouldn’t be used to it, I mean.”

Kaminari hums, blowing a strand of hair out of his face. “Um, I have a lot of verbal tics.”

The topic change doesn’t go over Tenya’s head. He frowns, but doesn’t push. He’ll just have to do better.

“Animal sounds, clicking, all that kinda stuff. Oh, and echolalia, too! A lot of my motor tics are, like, more discreet, I guess. Like finger twitches and nose scrunching.”

As if to accentuate his point, Kaminari’s nose scrunches and twitches, and Tenya has to hold back a small smile.

“Yeah, like that!” Kaminari points to his nose, and it scrunches again. It’s refreshing to be around someone who can laugh at their tics, however unpleasant they can be.

“So, what about you, big guy?”

Tenya frowns at the nickname but decides it’s not bad enough to argue about. “Oh, well… I’ve never really talked about it before,” he chuckles, twiddling his thumbs. “I don’t know what to say, exactly. I was diagnosed when I was nine, I believe. My parents got worried when I couldn’t stop hitting myself, so they took me to the doctor and I received my diagnosis.”

He doesn’t remember much about that day, just that things were suddenly different. He “officially” wasn’t “normal”, a fact that didn’t really bug his family, but it bothered him. His family, however supportive they tried to be, just didn’t get it—they still don’t.

There are still days where Tenya is asked to stop tapping or stomping by family and acquaintances alike. And he knows they mean well, but it’s yet another reminder that he’ll never be normal to them. They don’t know what it’s like to be unable to stop.

“Let’s see…” Tenya racks his brain for something to say. He doesn’t want to get emotional or overwhelm Kaminari.

“Oh, um…” Tenya sticks his shaking hands in his pocket and pulls out his compression gloves. He fumbles with them before straightening his back. “I have these. I try not to use them too much, though.”

“Ooo, what are they?”

Tenya feels his face flush. “They’re called compression gloves. A lot of my tics involve my hands, fingers, and wrists, so the gloves help minimize the pain.”

“Dude!” Kaminari nudges Tenya’s shoulder with his own. “Use them as much as you need! You’re allowed to use things that help you! Like, would you limit the amount of time you wear your glasses? Nah, ‘cause then everything would be all blurry, and you don’t wanna live life in the blurry!”

That is… surprisingly insightful. You don’t wanna live life in the blurry… he should write that down.

“Thank you, Kaminari-kun. I haven’t ever… that was good.”

Tenya struggles with finding the right words. Even now the right words still elude him. He doesn’t know how to express gratitude for something as meaningful as this verbally.

“Denki.”

“What?”

Kaminari grins at him, so blinding and happy that Tenya almost recoils. “Call me Denki. You’re my tic buddy, right? I know we don’t really know each other well yet, but…” Kaminari puckers his lips as he thinks. “But I feel like I know you, dude. In a way that no one else ever will. And you know me, too.”

It sounds silly, but Tenya doesn’t want to protest.

Tenya hasn’t ever had a friend to call by their given name, nor has he ever particularly wanted to. He doesn’t feel like he actually understands other people, but Kaminari is right.

Perhaps it’s because Kaminari is the first person he’s met with Tourette’s. Perhaps it’s because Kaminari doesn't flinch when Tenya rocks forward in his chair, suddenly. That tic usually makes people keep their distance.

Or, perhaps, it’s because he understands when Kaminari grunts loudly and flaps his hands and squeaks so sharply it sounds almost like a scream or shriek. He sees the way Kaminari nervously glances around the room afterwards, like he’s worried he disturbed someone.

And… maybe that’s it.

Maybe they’ve spent their whole lives thinking their existence disturbed everyone else’s. And maybe this is the first time either of them found someone who they can breathe freely around, who they don’t have to worry about disturbing.

“Denki…” he whispers the word first, lets it roll around on his tongue, tasting it. “Denki…”

It should be weird to call a classmate by their given name after only one week of knowing each other, but it feels right.

“Then, Denki, you may call me Tenya. But, um, only outside of the classroom, please.”

Befriending Denki is a big step for Tenya, but he’s still not ready to air it to their class. Not that he’s ashamed—goodness, no! Given names are more personal to him. He isn’t in a place to share that with anyone else yet.

Denki absolutely beams. “Okay, Tenya!” He bounces up and down. “Can I hug you? Is that okay?”

“Oh, uh, sure!”

“Sweet!”

That’s the only warning Tenya gets before Denki flings himself at him.

Tenya’s back falls into the grass, and he can’t even find it in himself to worry about getting grass stains on his uniform. He awkwardly wraps his arms around Denki, patting his shoulder stiffly.

Denki’s hugs are warm, he notices. Denki doesn’t just hug with his arms, he hugs with his body. He presses his face into the crook of Tenya’s neck, his hair tickles Tenya’s mouth, and somehow Denki manages to weave their legs together.

It’s… it’s nice.

“You’re really cool, Tenya!” Kaminari says as they break apart. “I’m glad we’re friends!”

Friends… a small smile tugs in Tenya’s lips. “I am honored to be your friend, Denki.”

And, for the first time since he was nine, Tenya decides to try working with his Tourette’s instead of defeating it.

Mashirao sits on the common room couch with Tokoyami, Tsu, and Kaminari, talking about their latest assignment from Aizawa, when the purring starts.

It’s a soft sound, so soft and cat-like that Mashirao thinks for a second that a cat somehow got loose in the dorms.

But then he notices a faint blush on Kaminari’s cheeks, and he smiles. Not a cat—just a sound he hasn’t heard yet.

“Sorry, guys,” Kaminari sighs, flicking his bangs. “It’s a new tic. You can blame ‘Toshi and all the cat videos he likes to watch for this one.”

“You’re good,” Tsu replies. “Thanks for telling us. You sound so much like an actual cat I thought one was hiding under the couches.”

“As did I,” Tokoyami agrees. “Dark Shadow likes to mimic cats, but you do it much better than her.”

Mashirao elects not to respond, and instead, he plops his tail in Kaminari’s lap in case he needs it.

“Really? Nice!” Kaminari pumps his fist then immediately starts kneading Mashirao’s tail. He looks down, looks up, then sighs. “I’m not beating the cat allegations, am I?”

“Nope,” Tsu grins, popping the ‘p’.

The conversation continues with little purrs thrown in here and there. They’ve moved on from school to talking about their plans for the weekend when the door opens, and Iida, Uraraka, and Kirishima walk in.

They pause to greet them, then continue on like normal.

Then, Kaminari purrs.

It’s a bit louder this time, but Mashirao doesn’t mind—it’s not like he can control it.

But then the strangest thing happens: a deeper purr sounds from somewhere behind them.

Kaminari doesn’t react, but Mashirao catches Tsu’s eyes and raises his brow. Tsu just shrugs in response, eyeing the kitchen curiously.

Kirishima plops down on Kaminari’s other side, drink in hand. “What’s up, guys?” he asks, playfully nudging Kaminari’s shoulder. Kaminari retaliates by poking him (and he purrs, and the deeper one follows).

“We’re talking about our weekend plans,” Tsu says (and Kaminari purrs, and so does something else). “Are you doing anything?”

“I have to spend the weekend catching up on homework,” Uraraka sighs, dramatically draping herself across Tsu’s lap as she munches on a protein bar. “You miss two days of school because you’re sick, and somehow you miss, like, an entire unit!”

(Kaminari purrs, the kitchen responds) “Hey! I’m behind, too! Wanna try working on it together?”

Mashirao glances around the room, feigning casualty. On the surface, it seems like no one else notices the echo, but Mashirao sees a cold glint in Kirishima’s eyes as he surveys the room and Tokoyami’s eyes narrow just slightly.

They haven’t run into many problems regarding people mocking their tics at U.A. Kaminari once told the class that kids used to do it all the time back in middle school. He laughed about it, waved it off like it didn’t matter.

But it did matter, and it still does.

Maybe Mashirao’s being paranoid. Kaminari hasn’t reacted to the echo; it could just be nothing.

Besides, he can’t picture anyone in class mocking Kaminari’s tics, it’s not in anyone’s nature. It’s probably just a weird echo.

Dang, facing all those villains has really put him on edge. Adjusting to the safety the dorms brought has been difficult. Mashirao finds himself jumping at small noises or making sure he has eyes on all the places a villain could enter.

Mashirao may not seem it since he isn’t as loud or flashy as most of his classmates, but he is proactive. He’s always been the guy to stand up for others, to protect anyone who needs it. Instinct kicks in when he feels threatened.

And he would stick up for Kaminari in a heartbeat.

Iida strides into the common room, hands moving robotically at his side. He sits next to Tokoyami, back stiff, neck arching. He says something about how good it is that they’re being proactive about making up missed work (and Kaminari purrs) and Tokoyami says something about Ectoplasm’s homework being particularly difficult and shrouded in darkness and Tsu offers to help out anyone who needs it (and Iida—).

And then everything clicks.

Mashirao’s muscles relax as he leans back into the couch.

It’s just Iida. That makes sense.

Mashirao doesn’t really get Tourette’s, not like Kaminari and Iida do. But he did research online after finding out Iida and Kaminari have it, and from what he learned, tics sometimes trigger other tics. The research said something about how tics are suggestible, so drawing attention to them or being around other tics will increase the frequency.

Neither Iida nor Kaminari seem to notice as they purr back and forth, almost like they’re responding to each other’s call.

It’s a bit odd, Mashirao thinks, but also kind of sweet, especially since it doesn’t seem to be bothering either of them. He reaches out like he’s stretching and flicks the back of Kirishima’s head, then nods towards Iida.

Kirishima slumps further into the couch, relief pouring out of him. He mouths “thank you”, then maneuvers his foot to kick Tsu.

Once everyone is filled in and the tenseness fades away, conversation flows easier knowing no one is mocking their friend.

The purring isn’t a big deal, so no one mentions it. The sound blends into the background and becomes normal. It’s just there, like when the air conditioner turns on or a low buzzing when technology’s being used.

Then, Iida’s neck snaps to the side with a resounding crack. He hisses, rubbing the back of his neck with a grimace.

Kaminari flinches. “Yikes, that sounded painful. You need anything?” he asks between purrs.

Iida shakes his head. “I’m good, but thank you, Kaminari-kun.” His eyebrows rise and fall, rise and fall, then furrow. He purrs.

This time, Iida co*cks his head to the side. “Hm. It appears I’ve picked up on your purring tic, Kaminari-kun. I didn’t even realize.” He purrs again. “I apologize if I made it worse.”

“Huh.” Kaminari snaps his fingers, head bobs, and purrs. “I didn’t even notice. It’s no big deal, Prez.” He pauses, then glances around the room a little sheepishly. “Although, uh, sorry if it was annoying. I’m just so used to it that I don’t really hear it much anymore.”

Iida’s eyes widen. “Yes, forgive us for being disruptive!”

“Don’t apologize,” Tokoyami says immediately. “It does not bother us. Nor is it disruptive.”

“Yeah!” Uraraka agrees. “It’s, I dunno, kind of nice! Not in, like, a weird way! It’s like… like a secret friendship code or something! It’s your thing!”

There’s an awkward break in conversation as Kaminari and Iida glance at each other, mouths open, then back at Uraraka.

“Oh.” Iida rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, his face slowly turning red. “No one’s ever really said that before. I, uh, thank you.”

“We’re seriously not disrupting you guys?” Kaminari asks, looking between everyone. “Like, it doesn’t make you or make you wanna rip your ears off or anything?”

The way Kaminari speaks is so hopeful, so genuine and… does that mean someone’s said that to him before? Red, hot fire burns in Mashirao’s gut, the flames spread up his body and into his hands, now clenching into fists. He’s not a particularly angry person, but he wants to punch something. How could someone actually say that to someone? The others in the room look just as devastated and angry as he feels, their faces ranging from heartbroken to murderous.

No, it’s in the past. No point being angry now. Mashirao takes a second to steady his breath then shakes his head. “Honestly, once I realized that you were both just ticcing and no one was mocking you, I stopped hearing it. It’s just background noise to me.”

“Yeah, man!” Kirishima adds. “I was ready to throw hands to defend your honour!”

“Bro, you’d throw hands for me?” Kaminari asks, a hand over his heart.

“Anything for you, bro!”

It’s interesting how Kirishima and Kaminari have the ability to make anything emotional, even if they’re just being dramatic or messing around. Mashirao’s heart swells at the sight of their over-the-top hug even though Kaminari is clearly laughing and Kirishima is biting his lip.

“But seriously I would throw hands for you without hesitation,” Kirishima says after pulling away, the playfulness that adorned his face gone. “I know you can take care of yourself and all, but we’re here for you. You too, Iida-kun! I’d throw hands for you, too!”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but please do not ‘throw hands’ on my behalf.”

Kirishima shrugs, which essentially translates to I hear you, but I’ll still do it.

“You guys are the best, you know?”

“Yeah, we do!” Uraraka flips her hair and sticks her tongue out at Kaminari. “You guys are pretty great, too!”

Kaminari purrs, and so does Iida.

And the conversation continues seamlessly.

Izuku is used to Iida’s sudden, robotic tics. They’re just something that happens every so often; hand chopping, flashing a thumbs up, connecting the sides of his fists, sudden head jerking and twisting… they’re common, easy to forget about, just like how Kaminari’s verbal tics often blend into the background because they’re just there.

But punching his forehead is not normal.

Izuku is sitting in homeroom with Iida, Todoroki, Uraraka, Yaoyorozu, and Jirou, chatting before class begins.

Iida is ticcing, as per usual, but they seem… faster than usual. More aggressive..

They’re usually easy to ignore, but Izuku can’t stop himself from flinching as Iida’s neck snaps to the side so fast that he briefly worries Iida will break his neck.

It’s odd, sure, but he swallows back the urge to say something, and he sees Yaoyorozu do the same. Iida didn’t comment on it, so they shouldn’t either.

Satou greets them as he walks into the classroom, closely followed by Tsu and a “kero”.

Iida “kero”’s back and lurches so far forward he almost falls out of his seat. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly then snaps back up to his perfect posture.

Satou and Tsu falter, wearily glancing from Iida to Izuku and the others. Uraraka shrugs, but she’s biting her lip.

“I apologize,” Iida says through gritted teeth. “Forgive me for disrupting the room.”

“Iida-kun, you don’t have ato apologize!” Izuku protests, but Iida snorts and looks away which is… really out of character. Izuku’s gut churns.

His tics get more and more aggressive as more people walk in.

Kouda enters with Hagakure and Iida shoots to his feet, twists, then sits back down.

Shouji walks in and Iida nearly slams his head on the desk.

At this point, everyone is nervously eyeing him, and even Izuku can’t stop himself from staring at Iida, trying to figure out a way to ask if he needs anything without coming across as mean.

These tics aren’t normal. In fact, they’re pretty concerning. But Iida opened up to their group about how people used to tell him that his tics made them uncomfortable, that they were disconcerting, and Izuku doesn’t want Iida to think he feels that way.

Besides, he reasons, Iida’s still talking, so he’s fine.

It’s fine.

It’s not fine.

Most of the class is in the room, everyone but the notoriously late Bakusquad, and each new person crossing the threshold is another jerk to Iida’s body.

They’re still chatting, talking about what they think they’ll do in hero training today, when Iida twitches and starts punching his forehead.

It’s so sudden that Izuku doesn’t even process that it’s happening for a good twenty seconds. No one does.

The chatter dies down immediately and everyone openly stares, mouths agape as Iida beats himself.

Izuku is the first to snap out of his daze. He stumbles out of his chair and practically leaps across Iida’s desk to grab his wrists before he can get more hits in.

Iida’s glasses fall off his face and are now lying in shattered pieces on the floor. A few bloody scratches adorn Iida’s knuckles, and Izuku winces in sympathy. His face is scrunched up in pain, teeth grit as he grunts and grunts and grunts.

“Stop it!” Izuku cries, struggling with the strain of keeping Iida contained. “You’re hurting yourself!”
It’s a selfish thing to say, an inconsiderate desire because, no, Iida can’t just stop. But what else is there to say? What else can he do?

Even with Izuku’s strength holding his wrists back, Iida is still able to drag Izuku along as he hits his forehead.

“Iida-kun!” Uraraka cries, hands hovering somewhere above Izuku. “What’s happening? Are you okay?”

Iida grunts some more, and they sound desperate this time, like he wants to answer but can’t.

“What should we do?”

“Should we call Aizawa-sensei or Recovery Girl?”

Izuku isn’t sure who’s talking; his concentration is solely on preventing Iida from hurting himself even more.

He vaugely registers someone swooping beside them to pick up Iida’s glasses, which is probably for the best since someone is sure to step on them.

The door opens again, then suddenly someone is shoving Izuku out of the way.

He falls to the ground with a thump.

“What are you guys doing?” Kaminari hisses, nudging Izuku further away with his foot. He shoos everyone else away, too.

Kaminari takes a deep breath, then smiles warmly, settling himself down in Tsu’s vacated desk. “Hey, Tenya,” he whispers, swallowing slowly. His smile is strained for the smallest of seconds before relaxing again.

“Is this a tic attack or just a really mean tic? Can you nod for a tic attack and shake your head for a bitch tic?”

Izuku watches, bewildered, as Iida manages to jerkily nod.

Kaminari nods, even though Iida can’t see. “That’s ass.” He pauses, eyes flitting from Iida’s hands to his red forehead. “I know you can’t stop—” at that, Iida whines, pounding his forehead again and again. “—but let’s try to redirect that energy, yeah?”

“Hey, does anyone have some kind of stress ball or something on ‘em?” Kaminari asks the rest of the class, who, much like Izuku, are watching the scene before them with bated breath.

There’s silence for a second as everyone tries to gather their bearings before Yaoyorozu replies, “I don’t think so. I can make one, if you’d like?”

Kaminari shakes his head. “Nah. Could you make a pillow instead? A soft one? That’d be more useful.”

When Yaoyorozu nods, he reaches into his backpack and pulls out an empty water bottle. He turns and tosses it to Todoroki. “Can you run and fill this with water? If it isn’t that cold, use your quirk to cool it down.”

The pillow is made and in Kaminari’s hands as the door swings shut behind Todoroki.

“Thanks,” he says. When Iida’s hands hit the desk, Kaminari shoves the pillow in his face. Just in time, too, because Iida’s hands sprung back up to land another hit just a second later.

Iida makes a sound that’s something between a whine and a squeak.

“You’re welcome,” Kaminari whispers. “You’re doing great. Do you want me to stay with you? Can you nod if you want me to?”

Another stiff, half-nod is his response.

“Okay.” Kaminari turns to the class and points to the door. “Everyone,” he says, looking pointedly at Izuku and the other bleeding hearts.

“But—”

“Everyone.”

Uraraka hauls Izuku to his feet (oh, shoot, he didn’t even realize he’s still on the floor) and drags him out of the room.

“Send Todoroki in when he comes back,” Kaminari says, swallowing carefully.

Hm, that’s the second time Izuku’s seen him swallow like that. It looks deliberate, like he’s trying to—no, now’s not the time.

Kaminari goes to close the door, then pauses. He looks back to the hallway full of worried classmates and sighs. “Thank you.”

Then he shuts the door.

Izuku’s tongue feels like it’s made of wood, like trying to speak will give him splinters. The image of Iida hitting himself lives behind his eyelids, the pained grunts nest in his ears. Despite all the scary situations he’s been in recently, his heart still pounds rapidly in his chest.

“Oh my God.” Hagakure’s uniform slides down the wall. From the way her sleeves are angled, it looks like she’s biting her nails. “That was… that was kinda scary.”

“Oui.”

Izuku and probably about half the class release long, deep breaths. It feels cliche to say that he didn’t even realize he held his breath, but he didn’t. Funny how danger or the unfamiliar can make someone forget how to breathe properly.

The tightness in his throat loosens, the wood chips away. It’s still tight and still woody, but he can breathe again, and you can’t be someone’s hero if you can’t calm yourself down.

Maybe that’s why Kaminari had such a handle on the situation. He was completely, utterly calm. He even cracked jokes!

That’s something Izuku admires about Kaminari; his ability to ease tension and calm people down. Maybe Izuku can ask him for some advice later?

“Anyone have some water?” Tsu asks, her tongue hanging limply out of her mouth.

Shinsou wordlessly tosses a bottle at her. It’s a plastic bottle, all crinkled and bent like Shinsou was squeezing it.

It even makes that weird scrunchy, cracking noise as Tsu drinks from it.

Todoroki comes jogging back, a glass of water in hand. Kouda wordlessly points him inside.

It’s still quiet when Todoroki comes back out.

“How is he?” Uraraka asks, twiddling her thumbs. “Is… is it better?”

“I didn’t really see him. He didn’t sound great, though.”

To an outsider, Todoroki would appear nonchalant, maybe even uncaring. But Izuku knows Todoroki like the back of his hand. There’s a faint twitching at the corner of his mouth, so miniscule most people would miss it.

It’s not exactly worry, per say. More like he’s put out about not getting to see Iida. For all his stoicness, Todoroki is really a softie at heart.

“Problem children, why’re you all loitering outside the classroom?”

Izuku and about half of the class jump, and he holds a hand against his chest. He needs to pay better attention to his surroundings. At this point in his hero training, he should’ve been able to tell Aizawa was there. Sure, he’s worried, but it’s only natural that he’ll be worried on the field, too, so he should—no, not the time.

Yaoyorozu explains the situation to Aizawa while Izuku and the others stand there awkwardly, fidgeting.

Aizawa lets out a long, deep sigh once he gets caught up. “Vlad’s class is starting in the gym today. Go study there or something. Yaoyorozu-chan, you’re in charge. Make sure everyone stays put.” That’s all he bothers to say before he leaves them.

“Well, erm,” Yaoyorozu clears her throat, a strained smile flickering at her lips. “Let’s go, shall we?”

The class responds with half-hearted mumbles and starts to trudge down the hall, sending nervous, forlorn looks behind them. Even Kirishima, the biggest hype man in class, can’t seem to find it in himself to stay enthusiastic.

Izuku can’t blame him. It’s hard to think positively when you’re watching a good friend punch themself and being unable to stop it.

Sun shines through the windows as they enter the classroom. It’s warm and cozy, or it should be, at least. The brightness is dimmer, more subdued, like the sun knows something is wrong and is acting accordingly.

Izuku plops down into the first chair he sees, one near the door so he can keep an eye on it. No one else seems to care much about where they sit—Tsu heads for the windows to bask in the heat, closely followed by Aoyama who enjoys the way the sun makes their hair glow. With no one to lecture him, Bakugou seats himself on top of a desk, though he’s not as smug about it as he’d usually be. Hagakure just straight up lies down on Vlad’s desk, and Ojirou perches beside her.

It’s quiet for a few minutes until Izuku decides to break it with the question that’s been on his mind. “What was it Kaminari-kun said? He asked Iida-kun if he was having a tic attack?”

“Yeah, a tic attack,” Sero answers, fanning their face. “Kami had one in front of us once. He was biting himself and twitching and…” They pause and take a deep breath. “It’s basically when someone with Tourette’s can’t stop ticcing. Like, it just goes on and on until it stops.”

Shinsou grunts. “They suck. Super painful, too. Denks is miserable for a long time during and after them.”

It just goes on and on until it stops.

So, there’s nothing to do but wait.

And wait they do.

Bakugou, ever restless, pulls his homework out after a minute or so, dragging Ashido, Kirishima, and Sero to his desk to make them get some work done, too.

They don’t even protest.

Others slowly follow suit. Yaoyorozu works with a group of people on their most recent math assignment.

Izuku already has all his stuff done, so he pulls out a notebook and two pens. He sticks the clip thingy on one of the pens in his mouth while he thinks, and doodles mindlessly with the other.

Todoroki sits beside him, chin on his shoulder, and watches him draw. Sometimes, he suggests random things like cold soba or a tape dispenser (and, oh, if they weren’t in a room full of people worrying over their classmate, Izuku would’ve teased the heck out of him). He asks for a cartoon rendition of Aizawa and Shinsou next to each other, too. It’s silly and a little stupid and Izuku knows he shouldn’t give in to Todoroki’s conspiracy theories, but he complies and it takes his mind off things.

Izuku doesn’t know how much time passes before he hears a faint rattling, and whips around to see the door open.

Kaminari steps in, mouth in a thin line, hands trembling and bunched at his side. Everyone stares at him, eyes wide. “Um, hi, guys,” he says eventually. “Sorry about kicking you out earlier…” He trails off, laughing weakly.

“Is Iida-kun okay?” Yaoyorozu wrings her hands out in front of her like she wants to do something to help. Izuku gets the feeling. It’s like his spine has been tingling the past hour, itching with the desire to fix things. No one in class is particularly good at sitting and waiting when they could be helping.

“He’s…” Kaminari purses his lips, neck twitching. “He’s as good as he can be.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Kaminari rolls his eyes (once, twice, three times… snaps his fingers, purrs…). “He’s not, like, hurt or anything. Gah!” He slowly unclenches a fist and runs his hand down his face. “Sorry, I’m not—I’m not good at this. The aftermath.”

Ashido hums, placing a hand on the back of his shoulders and slowly massaging him. “It’s okay, hun. Take your time.” She gently leads him to an empty desk and sits him down. Shinsou appears at his side instantly, running a hand along his back.

“Ten–Iida’s fine. He’s just gonna be really sore for a couple days and probably a little embarrassed.” Denki’s neck snaps viciously to the side.

“Kaminari-kun, are you…”

Kaminari waves him off. “Nah, just a side effect from watching a tic attack. It’s not as bad as Iida’s, I promise, guys. Don’t worry about me.”

“Hm, that would make sense,” Izuku murmurs. “If two people with tics are in a room together and one tics, it’s likely that the other would tic as well since tics typically trigger more tics.”

A sharp, sweaty pain erupts on the back of his head after Bakugou slaps him. “Oi, asshole, talking about it is gonna make his tics worse. Geez.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you, Blasty!” Mina cooes, wrapping her arms around his waist. He pushes her off immediately, but she still looks pleased with her one-sided hug.

“We were pretty useless back there, weren’t we?”

Leave it to Tsu to say what’s weighing on everyone’s mind.

How are they supposed to be heroes when they can’t even help their friend? It’s a dumb train of thought—Izuku knows it is—but it’s hard to not think that way.

“You guys weren’t useless,” Kaminari waves them off, purring. “You didn’t know any better. But, uh, in the future, don’t restrain someone having a tic attack. I know it can be kinda scary, and Iida was hurting himself, but the more we feel, the worse our tics’ll get. And, uh, there’s this thing called premonitory urge which is like the feeling you get before you sneeze, and if we’re prevented from ticcing, the premonitory urge gets worse. Actually carrying through with the tic relieves some of that pressure.”

Izuku’s eyes widen. “O-Oh. I just made it worse, didn’t I?”

“Erm, kinda, yeah.” Kaminari winces. “But Iida isn’t mad at you guys or anything. He knows you just wanted to help, and that’s what really matters, right?”

This is usually where Iida would step in and give the class an inspiring speech of some sort, something about how sometimes the impact of actions is different from the intent, but it’s our duty as classmates to forgive each other and rectify our errors. Something nice and blunt like that.

But he’s not here.

“Did Aizawa-sensei say anything?” Todoroki asks, and thank goodness for Todoroki because Izuku was on the verge of attempting to give an Iida-esq speech just to fill the gaping moment and it would’ve been embarrasssing.

“Oh, uh, he’ll be here in tenish minutes,” Kaminari replies. “He said something about how you all better be doing school work—” Kaminari says this in his Aizawa voice: deep, gruff, and irritated. Not the best Aizawa impression Izuku’s heard, but not bad. “—but I asked him why anyone would do work when a friend is hurt and he just stared at me for a bit.”

That’s unfortunate. Izuku is pretty familiar with most of Aizawa’s stares. None of them are pleasant.

“He’s taking Iida to Recovery Girl. He’s not, like, hurt or anything, but he needs to rest and his nose is a little bleh and he also probably definitely needs some pain meds or something, but, uh, classes are still on. Iida just won’t be in them today.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Hagakure breathes, and Izuku’s chest feels lighter now.

Of course Izuku will miss having Iida in class—they’re really good friends and the class dynamic gets thrown off if even one person is missing—but he’s glad Iida’s okay. Or, is going to be okay. That's what matters the most.

He’ll probably be distracted during class today, though. He knows logically that it’s unreasonable to expect him to know everything about every neurodivergency ever, but he’s smarter than this! He should’ve known not to restrain Iida! And, yeah, he’s holding himself to unfair expectations, but he can’t control how guilty he feels! Hopefully Iida won’t be too upset with him…

Anywho, he can worry about that later (and by later, he means as soon as class starts and he can zone out to wallow in his guilt, and it’ll follow him all day, lingering behind him like a shadow). Everyone moves to around the same spot as their actual seats and begins getting ready for class. Hopefully Aizawa won’t go too hard on them today…

Speak of the devil…

“Okay, we’ve wasted enough time.” Aizawa slinks into the room and settles on top of Vlad’s desk. “You guys did alright today. You’ve gotten better at handling unexpected problems, but you all still overreacted.” He eyes Kaminari. “I trust Kaminari-kun updated you and told you what you did wrong?”

Izuku nods so vigorously his hair bounces.

“Good. Now, let’s talk about…”

— —

That evening, Izuku sat in his room, doodling mindlessly. He leaves his door open after dinner since he typically gets evening visitors. Todoroki is a regular, so are Uraraka and Aoyama. And after a stressful day, Izuku’s sure he’ll get some visitors. He doesn’t really want to be alone either.

It doesn’t take long for someone to stop by.

“Midoriya-kun?”

Izuku looks up from his notebook and nearly falls off his bed. Standing in his doorway is Iida, a heating pad around his neck and bandaids on his knuckles.

“Iida-kun! How’re you doing? Are you okay? I mean—come in, please!”

He’s about to jump to his feet, but Iida waves him off. “No, please, stay comfortable. Do you mind if I sit in your desk chair?”

“Not at all!”

The first thing Izuku notices after Iida shuts the door behind him is how exhausted he looks. Bruised bags lie under his eyes, he moves sluggishly, and the stress lines on his face are more defined. He all but collapses in Izuku’s hair.

“I am alright,” he says once he’s comfortable. “Tired and sore, but alright. Thank you for your concern.”

“Of course!” Izuku replies, clenching his bedsheets. He needs to restrain the thousands of questions he has or he’ll freak Iida out.

“What brings you here? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I’ve been resting all day, getting a little bit of a walk in is good for me.” Iida pauses, twiddling his thumbs. “Denki told me you were worried.”

Yikes, was he that obvious? He really—wait, Denki, huh? Since when were they so close? Didn’t Kaminari call him ‘Tenya’ earlier? No! Focus!

“Oh,” Izuku twirls his pencil between his fingers, “uh, yeah! I was!”

“I see,” Iida nods. “I apologize for worrying you, I am fine. Tic attacks are just something that happens, I suppose.”

“No, no! Don’t apologize! I just…” Izuku frowns as heat rises to his cheeks. “I wish I could’ve been more helpful earlier, but I just made it worse.”

“Oh.” Iida licks his lips and readjusts the heating pad.

“You didn’t make it worse.”

Izuku raises a brow at him.

“Erm, okay, well, you did make it worse,” Iida corrects. “But you didn’t restrain me with malicious intent. You were just trying to help me, and even though it hurt, it showed me that you care. I would prefer that you not do that again.” He chuckles awkwardly.

“Yeah! I definitely won’t—promise!”

“Don’t feel bad, please. I don’t entirely understand but, I’m sure watching with nothing to do feels helpless. You were there for me, though, and you didn’t know any better. But now you do. So there isn’t anything to worry about. I’m okay, and I’m not upset with you.”

Izuku swipes his nose with his sleeves. “Don’t comfort me! I’m the one who should be comforting you!”

“Don’t worry about me, it’s nothing new.”

“That doesn’t make it any better!”

Iida shrugs. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

Is that supposed to make him feel better? Maybe. It doesn’t, though. The world blurs into the background, and Izuku faces Iida and the looming figure behind him, drooling and panting, ready to strike. He imagines himself fighting the creature, hitting it with his most powerful moves until it poofs out of existence.

But he can’t because there isn’t a magical cure for Tourette’s, there isn’t a way to fix it. Not that it’s something that needs to be cured or fixed! Izuku just wants Iida to be okay, and he isn’t. He’s in so much pain and Izuku can’t do anything but sit and watch and—

Oh, his eyes are watering.

No, he won’t cry in front of Iida. Izuku isn’t the one who needs comforting… but it all seems so helpless and Iida’s not even frowning, his face is blank, empty. He’s so resigned to being miserable his whole life—

No! Izuku needs to stop thinking about Tourette’s like it’s something to fix. He needs to think about how to comfort Iida in the now rather than make it stop forever.

So, he does the best thing he can do: “Would you like a hug?”

Iida’s mouth opens, then closes. He nods hesitantly.

Izuku practically falls out of his bed in his haste to get to Iida. A small smile crawls up his face, so faint it’s hardly noticeable, but Izuku’s good at noticing things. He glomps onto Iida, clinging to him like a sloth to a tree.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

Iida hugs him tighter.

Everyone knows that Kaminari is loud, he’s exuberant and silly and flirtatious.

But Kaminari’s been quiet recently, Kyouka notices. Weirdly quiet.

Stiff, too. Still.

And Kyouka isn’t the only one who’s noticed.

She overhears Kirishima asking if everything’s alright. And, of course, Kaminari responds with a slow laugh and a careful, “I’m just tired is all”. Then he shoots some finger guns and practically sprints away, leaving behind a confused and concerned Kirishima.

And Kirishima isn’t the only one who tries; no. She hears Shinsou, Mina, Sero, Iida, Midoriya, Tokoyami, hell, even Daek Shadow make attempts, but they all end the same: “I’m tired”.

Those who don’t ask watch.

Bakugou’s eyes seem to follow Kaminari everywhere. Tsu turns around to observe him at least once per class. Aoyama somehow manages to use their sparkles and mirrors to discreetly glance at Kaminari while pretending to look at their reflection.

Kyouka wants to say something, but words aren’t her thing. She doesn’t know what’s going on and doesn’t want to accidentally add fuel to the fire. So, after a poor attempt to casually ask what’s up, she watches, too.

She catches him sitting on his hands in class when he thinks no one is looking. He speaks slowly, pausing every few words to swallow. He swallows even when he isn’t talking—Kyouka hears it clear as day. His smile is dimmer than usual, too, like the sun being covered by clouds.

Kaminari hides in his room after class, he darts in and out of the kitchen to snatch food for dinner before anyone can catch him. His absence is glaring.

Class is quieter, the dorms are quieter… it’s so weird and not like Kaminari.

It hits her in the middle of the night, why the silence is so disconcerting: she can’t remember the last time Kaminari ticced.

She’s used to hearing it all the time—him and Iida both. Day and night, in class or the dorms, she hears their clicks and slurps and yelps and purrs.

For whatever reason, Kaminari has stopped ticcing.

The internet is useless in situations like this, so she goes to the most reliable source: Iida.

She knocks on his door one day when Kaminari’s not around. His heartbeat is distinct; much faster than everyone else’s. Whether he’s able to stop ticcing or not, he can’t turn off his heartbeat. She doesn’t know where he is, but he’s not in his room.

“Jirou-chan!” Iida says when he opens the door. “How may I help you?”

“Uh, I have a kind of weird question, if you don’t mind me coming in to ask?”

“Of course!” Iida steps back, then pauses. “Midoriya-kun is here as well, would you like this conversation to be private?”

Kyouka considers for a moment, then shrugs. “I don’t care. He might be able to help a bit, too.” He’s the most observant person in class, he’s probably noticed stuff Kyouka missed.

“Hi, Jirou-chan!” Midoriya greets as she enters. He’s sitting cross-legged in Iida’s desk chair, a book in his lap. Iida himself sits on his bed and gestures for Kyouka to sit beside him.

“So, how may we help?”

Iida flicks the air and his chin jerks.

“Is there any reason someone with Tourette’s would just… stop ticcing?” She twirls an earphone jack around her finger.

Iida’s brows raise. “Are you asking if certain tics stop or if tics stop in general?”

“If tics stop in general.”

“Well, it depends on the person, I suppose,” Iida muses. “Tics wax and wane over time, so some people could have a certain tic for a couple of days or a couple of years. Some people experience periods of time without many tics, though they do come back.” His lips purse. “Is this about Kaminari-kun?”

“You noticed, too?” she asks, though it’s a stupid question because of course Iida noticed. “I don’t know. It’s just been rubbing me the wrong way. They don’t seem like they’re gone. He looks uncomfortable all the time, and…” she trails off, the I’m kind of worried hanging in the air.

“Me too,” Midoriya chimes in, closing his book. “He’s been swallowing a lot lately.”

Kyouka snaps her gaze up to meet Midoriya’s.

“When Iida-kun had the, uh, tic attack, I noticed that Kaminari-kun kept swallowing.” He shrugs. “I asked him about it, and he said it’s what he does when he suppresses. Like he’s swallowing his tics back. Iida-kun’s tic attack triggered tics of his own, but he didn’t want to make Iida-kun’s worse, so he swallowed.”

He tilts his head, frowning. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping, Iida-kun, but I don’t think his tics are waning. It seems more deliberate to me.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Iida sighs, running a hand down his face. “All signs point to suppression. I’ve tried talking to him but…”

“Yeah, he won’t talk to me, either,” Kyouka mutters, arms crossed. “Which is weird because he usually tells me everything. Not that I’ve seen him much outside of class lately.”

“Perhaps we should tell Aizawa-sensei what we’ve noticed?” Iida suggests. “If Kaminari-kun won’t listen to us, maybe he’ll listen to him?”

Kyouka shakes her head. “No way. Aizawa-sensei intimidates him too much. He’ll think he did something wrong.”

“Maybe we should try talking to him together?” Midoriya suggests. “Tell him what we’ve noticed? We don’t have to ask anything of him, just let him know we’re here for him if he needs us.”

“I guess we could try… it can’t be the whole class or anything cause that’ll overwhelm him for sure.”

“Agreed.”

“We could give it till the weekend, too. That way it won’t distract him during training or anything. Who knows, maybe it’ll all be cleared up by then!” Midoriya’s optimism is sweet, but even he doesn’t sound so sure of himself. “Either way, we can keep an eye on him, see if we can figure anything out!” Now, he’s bouncing in his seat, which is kinda endearing. Midoriya really enjoys investigative, analysis type of work. If only it were under better circ*mstances.

“Okay then it’s settled!” Iida claps his hands, neck lurching forward. “The three of us will talk to Kaminari-kun on Saturday if the situation is still active!”

Loud footsteps ring in Kyouka’s ears, stomping closer and closer. Angry muttering is audible, too. So fast and growl-y that Kyouka isn’t sure if they’re actual words.

“Oh boy,” she sighs, her earphone jacks pointing towards the door. “I think you’re about to get another visitor, Iida-kun.”

As if on cue, Bakugou pounds on the door, super fast and super annoying, accompanied by shouts of, “Glasses! You have five seconds to open your door before I knock it down!”

Iida’s on his feet immediately rushing to let Bakugou in and reprimand him for yelling and threatening to destroy school property and all the usual things.

“Make that the four of us,” Midoriya mutters wearily.

— —

Kyouka and the others keep an eye on Kaminari the next couple of days.

It took some convincing to get Bakugou to go with their plan, seeing as he’s more of a “deal with problems head on” kind of guy, but he relented eventually. He claims it’s because he was “too tired to deal with all your whining”, but Kyouka thinks it’s because he trusts Iida’s opinion on this.

Well, clearly he does trust Iida’s opinion since he bothered to go to him for help (and he claims he only cares because “the extras that follow him around keep complaining and miss him at lunch and it’s annoying”, and they pretend to believe it for Kaminari’s sake).

Nothing changes much aside from four pairs of eyes observing Kaminari. He’s still stiff and quiet, bolting out of the classroom as soon as the bell rings and holing up in his room to avoid confrontation, and the others point out small things she missed.

He shudders when he swallows, Midoriya points out, like it hurts him. When they’re lucky enough to catch him outside the classroom, Bakugou shows them how Kaminari scans his surroundings carefully, like he’s trying to avoid someone. Iida notes that Kaminari’s knuckles are red and dotted with fingernail indentations.

It all comes to a head at lunch a day earlier than they intended.

“What’s Pikachu doin’?”

Kyouka’s head snaps up. “What?”

Bakugou huffs and points across the cafeteria. “He’s been avoiding us for a week, and now he’s walking around with some extra.”

And he is. The ‘extra’ has his hands in his pocket and is slouching forward as he follows Kaminari around.

“He kinda looks like Kobayashi.”

Bakugou and Kyouka nearly jump out of their skin at Midoriya’s sudden appearance. Damn, she must’ve been really watching if she didn’t hear Midoriya approach, Iida right behind him.

“Dammit, Deku!” Bakugou shouts. “Don’t just f*cking sneak up on people like that!”

It’s impressive, really, how Midoriya doesn’t flinch or blink or even look away from Kaminari and the Kobayashi guy when Bakugou yells.

“He’s from the business course, I think. I’ve seen them hanging around each other a lot a couple weeks ago, and then they weren’t anymore,” Midoriya continues, biting his lip. “I don’t really know much about him, though. I know most of the quirks in that course, but not well enough to know which is his.”

“He looks uncomfortable,” Jirou muses, wincing as Kaminari throws his head back and stumbles over his own feet. He would’ve fallen if not for the other guy catching his arm at the last second and hauling him up. He doesn’t let go, either; he continues to hold tight despite Kaminari’s efforts to pull away.

It’s the first time she’s seen him tic all week. It’s hard to tell from further away, but if she squints, Kaminari looks… kinda scared. No, not scared. Concerned? Regretful? Mortified?

“I don’t like it,” growls Bakugou. “I don’t like his hands on Pikachu.”

“I don’t either,” says Iida, “but we can’t just jump into action based on assumptions. Let’s watch them from a distance.”

“Yeah, they just left the cafeteria,” Kyouka says, watching the guy following Kaminari out the door. “The courtyard is in that direction. I bet Kaminari’s headed there.”

She doesn’t like that, not at all. She knows her best friend, and he doesn’t look this freaked out around people he trusts. He’s so hunched and looks so much smaller than usual. Kaminari is supposed to take up the whole room with his stupid bright smile and stupid outgoing personality. He doesn’t make himself small or invisible, it’s not in his nature.

“f*ck it, I’m not waiting around anymore.” Bakugou marches forward, and Kyouka, Midoriya, and Iida scramble to follow him. “I don’t trust this extra.”

Kyouka’s gut twists painfully as they speed walk to catch up with Kaminari and Kobayashi. They’re fast and have a head start since Kyouka is on the other side of the cafeteria. They weave in and out of students, hearts thundering.

Maybe they’re just being weird and dramatic about everything, but that’s just wishful thinking. Something about the way that guy held onto Kaminari’s arm sends her hero instincts blaring.

The first thing she hears is clicking—Kaminari’s clicking—but it sounds weird. It’s slower than normal which, okay, sure, tics change all the time but… it’s not right. His clicks haven’t ever been this slow. They sound deliberate, too. Almost exaggerated.

The second thing she hears is laughter, and that isn’t coming from Kaminari either.

As they get closer, she sees Kaminari’s frown, sees his red face, his fluttering lips, his desperate eyes.

Bakugou scowls and stomps towards them, fists clenched. Iida is close behind him, uncharacteristically silent.

Kyouka and Midoriya share a look before jogging to catch up.

“Oi, Pikachu, what the hell are you doin’ with this extra?” Bakugou shouts. He looks between the two of them, eyes narrowed. “Where’s your damn lunch? We have hero training later. Don’t want you holding us back or anything cause you didn’t eat.”

Kaminri opens his mouth to respond, but his face scrunches up before he can, and he says, “Pika!” instead. He says it three times, in fact, his head bobbing up and down each time. He immediately slaps a hand over his mouth.

Major red flag.

Bakugou’s shoulders tense.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Kobayashi says. “Kaminari and I are just hanging out. We’re buddies, aren’t we, Pikachu?”

Bakugou bristles at the nickname and is ready to shout when Kaminari makes a soft whining sound, followed by another slew of “Pika”’s.

The guy laughs, throwing his arm around Kaminari’s shoulders. Kaminari hunches in on himself, clicking and whispering “Pika” as his head jerks around.

“You’re Kobayashi-kun, right?” Midoriya steps forward, smiling through grit teeth. “From the business course?”

Kobayashi grins right back. “Yeah. What’re you doing here? Aren’t you hero students too good to hang out with us business studies students?”

Ugh, not that comment again. Kyouka’s sick of hearing it. It’s been disproven multiple times, and, honestly, it just sounds like an excuse to be pissy.

The sounds get louder—the “Pika”’s, the clicking, the chirping, the growling, the throat clearing. Kaminari’s body is desperate; his nose scrunches, his fingers scrape his thighs, and his shoulders try to shrug in spite of the arm around him.

And through it all, Kobayashi never lets go.

“Cut the sh*t,” Bakugou snarls. “Pi—Sparky doesn’t want you around. So quit followin’ him and beat it!”

The arm around Kaminari’s shoulders tightens.

“You don’t speak for everyone, you know. Besides, I’m just here for some music,” Kobayashi says, pouting. He laughs at their bewildered expressions. “Oh, come on, don’t pretend you haven’t heard. Hey, watch this.”

Kobayashi opens his mouth, and Kaminari’s voice comes out. The air fills with Kaminari squeaking, his grunting, all his animal noises, and all the sounds that Kyouka doesn’t even know how to describe or mimic.

Normally, Kaminari could get away whenever he wanted. He may not be the most muscular, but he is quick on his feet and agile as hell. But he isn’t able to now, not as his body contorts and jerks and writhes about, not as Kobayashi plays the part of puppet master and forcibly pulls the strings on Kaminari’s mouth, all the while cackling at his helplessness.

And all Kyouka sees is red.

“How—”

“It’s your quirk. Echo, right?” Midoriya asks, realization sinking in, fists clenched.

Kobayashi nods, all smug and oh, it sends Kyouka’s blood boiling. “Yup. I can mimic other people’s sounds and voices as long as I hear it first.” He nudges Kaminari playfully, smirking viciously at his yelp. “It’s not the flashiest or anything, but it sure comes in handy when my friends and I wanna listen to some music. Isn’t that right, little songbird?” he sneers at Kaminari, leaning closer into his personal space.

“Let go of him,” Bakugou demands, feet spreading apart and hands at the ready. Sweat drips down his arms, pooling in his palms.

“Oh, look at you!” Kobayashi says, shaking Kaminari. “Your music’s in such high demand! Whatever, you’re already on thin ice, right Explosion God Murder or whatever your stupid hero name is? What’re you gonna do, hit me?”

That’s probably the most ridiculous thing Kyouka heard anyone say. Clearly this guy doesn’t know Bakugou as well as he thinks he does—Bakugou doesn’t give a sh*t about rules when it comes to his friends. Only an idiot would ask Bakugou if he’s gonna hit them. If the circ*mstances were different, Kyouka would keel over cackling and enjoy the show.

But Kaminari’s eyes meet Kyouka’s, a stark reminder that this isn’t just someone pushing Bakugou’s buttons for fun. They’re wide and shining with tears he’s trying so hard to hold back and any part of her that wants to laugh dies.

I’m sorry, his eyes say. I tried. I’m so sorry.

Kobayashi gets so close to Kaminari’s ear it seems like he’s about to bite down on it and releases a slew of tics. It’s quiet, but with her quirk, Kyouka can hear it clear as day. Kaminari’s control slips, and a few tears spill down his cheeks.

He’s scared. He’s scared and hurt and embarrassed and it’s been made abundantly clear that they can’t talk Kobayashi down.

“Come on, sing for them, little songbird. Make those pretty sounds.”

There’s a flash of movement to Kyouka’s right before she can even process what was said (and when she does, oh, a rage like she’s never felt before consumes her).

But all she can think is: oh sh*t. Bakugou’s going to kill him.

Both she and Midoriya go to grab at Bakugou, but Bakugou’s still there, only a few steps ahead of them. He’s frozen, staring ahead, mouth slack.

Bakugou isn’t the one who ran.

A loud growl sends a shiver down her spine, and it’s the only warning she gets before Iida rips Kaminari from Kobayashi’s grasp and shoves him towards Midoriya.

Midoriya scrambles to catch him. He steadies Kaminari, loosely holding his hand as he helps him sit down.

As soon as Kaminari’s out of the way, Iida pulls his arm back and punches Kobayashi in the face.

Once, twice, three times.

Kyouka gets why Bakugou froze, she feels frozen, too.

Iida Tenya, their class president, the biggest stickler for the rules Kyouka’s ever met, is punching the living daylights out of another student. She wouldn’t believe it if she didn’t see it.

Bakugou’s the first to snap out of it, rushing forward and tackling Iida to the ground.

“Stop it!” Iida spits, struggling against Bakugou. “Let me go!”

“What, are you crazy?” Bakugou replies. “You aren’t f*cking thinking!”

“Yes, I am!” His voice rises, loses itself in the breeze and rustling of tree branches. “He just—he can’t—” Iida’s cut off by his own burst of noise, a flurry of feeling forced out of him. His jaw clenches and his mouth snaps shut.

“What’s the matter?” Kobayashi props himself up on his elbows, basking in the glares sent his way. He spits out blood, and Kyouka can’t help but feel vindicated. “You don’t have to turn off your music either, you freak.” He bursts into haggard laughter that resembles choking as blood flows from his definitely broken nose and split lip down into his mouth.

Bakugou kicks him in the side. “Stay out of this, asshole,” he growls, then turns back to Iida. “You can’t f*cking attack him like that. You don’t do that sh*t. You’re gonna feel bad about it later or somethin’. I’ll take care of this bastard. You calm the f*ck down or you’ll freak Sparky out.”

He heaves Kobayashi up by his collar and drags him away, steam practically pouring out of his ears.

A part of Kyouka hopes Bakugou hits him a little more. But the hero inside her knows that’s not justice, nor is it particularly what Kaminari would want.

Behind her, Midoriya is whispering to Kaminari, petting his hair. Kaminari is, for the lack of a better word, a mess. He’s trembling and twitching and trying so hard to suck the tears in.

“I’m—” hiccup-growl-Pika “—sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.”

He mumbles it over and over again, hands clawing his face and tugging on the ends of his bangs until Midoriya pushes them out of the way.

Sparks surround him, flashy and bright. But Midoriya still holds on, so they must not be too strong.

To her side, Iida’s bent over, hands on his knees. His chest heaves, and when Kyouka listens for his heartbeat, it’s faster than it’s supposed to be. Much faster.

“sh*t,” she murmurs, running a hand down her face (and she’s shaking, too, she notices). She crouches next to Midoriya. “Iida’s heartbeat is way too fast. He’s gonna pass out or something if he doesn’t breathe. Can you…”

Midoriya nods curtly, guiding Kaminari to lean against Kyouka then rushing to Iida’s side.

She isn’t any good at comforting people. She’s improved since being at U.A., definitely, but it’s still difficult for her. But she knows Kaminari better than Midoriya, and he knows Iida better than her. She doesn’t think she can help Iida right now, but she can at least try to help Kaminari.

“Hey, Kami,” she whispers. “I need you to breathe for me. Umm… here.” She carefully grabs his wrist. Small sparks travel from his hand to hers. They’re light, more like static than anything. Her hair will probably be a frizzy mess after this, but that’s the least of her worries.

Kyouka guides his hand to her body and presses it to her abdomen, loose enough that he can pull away at any time. She takes a slow, deep breath. “Breathe with me. Feel, er, feel my breaths.”

Ugh, she’s terrible at this. No, no room for self-deprecation now. This isn’t about her, it’s about Kaminari.

“Breathe with me.”

It takes a few minutes before Kaminari gets the hang of it. She breathes and breathes and breathes until he does, too. His breath still shakes, still hitches, but they’re slower now, less frantic.

“You’re okay,” she mumbles the whole time, tapping his knuckles. “I’ve got you, you’re okay.” She repeats it over and over again until they don’t sound like actual words anymore.

Vaguely, she hears Iida’s breathing slow down until it’s close to normal. Midoriya says something about washing and bandaging his knuckles.

Kyouka can’t help the strong sense of pride blossoming when she hears that. Good. If Iida’s knuckles are messed up, that means Kobayashi’s face is messed up, too.

Grass stains her knees and rubs her thighs uncomfortably. Her school skirt will probably have green spots, too. But it doesn’t matter and she doesn’t care. Her discomfort is impalpable compared to the agony Kaminari’s probably experiencing.

Time is non-existent in the midst of a crisis. The world around her appears frozen, hazy, like nothing exists except for her and her friends. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t hear Aizawa approach.

No, she only realizes when the sparks flicker out. She looks up with a start and sees Aizawa kneeling in front of them a safe distance away.

Soft grumbling from her side draws her attention to Bakugou, who kneels before Iida, gently wiping his hands with disinfectant. Midoriya fiddles with a roll of bandages.

Heh, that’s Bakugou for you. He acts all tough and mean, yet he took the time to gather medical supplies for Iida and grab Aizawa.

Her gaze shifts back to Aizawa, who continues to stare at Kaminari with red, dry eyes. She can practically feel the headache forming behind them.

She wants to tell him not to bother, it doesn’t hurt anyway, but by the time she catches her bearings, Kaminari’s calm. Well, not calm, exactly. When he looks up, his face is dull and lifeless. Devoid of any emotion. His lips are thin and squeeze together, like he still wants to hold everything in.

No, he’s not calm. He’s defeated; resigned.

It’s not an expression she ever wants to see on Kaminari again.

Iida doesn’t look as worse for wear. He still doesn’t look great, though. He’s staring ahead, eyes wide and lost. Midoriya quietly finishes wrapping the final bandage around his hands, muttering kind words while he does.

What a sight they must be: five members of class A, frazzled, frizzy, bloody-knuckled, lost. Or maybe they’ve been masquerading as adults for so long it’s hard to process that they don’t look like a disheveled mess, they just look like children.

“Kaminari-kun, are you back with us?”

Kaminari blinks up at Aizawa, mouth twisting. “Y-Yeah.”

“Alright.” Aizawa pushes himself to his feet. “Are we talking in one of your rooms or my office?”

— —

They end up in Kaminari’s room. It’s a bit of a tight fit, but they make it work. Midoriya tried convincing Kaminari to see Recovery Girl, but he was adamant about not needing to. Said he just wanted to be in his safe space with his weighted blanket and stuffed animals.

“So, Kaminari,” Kyouka says, picking at one of his ugly ass rugs, “what happened?”

Kaminari clutches his pikachu plushie closer, a weighted blanket draped over his shoulders. “It’s a long story.”

Aizawa sighs, but he’s not exasperated. “I’ve got time.”

“Why don’t you start from the beginning,” Midoriya suggests gently, carding a hand through Kaminari’s hair.

“Okay.” Kaminari sniffs, swiping his nose with his sleeve and squeezing his eyes shut. He opens them, takes a deep breath, then continues. “I met Kobayashi around a month ago, I think? He was really nice and said my quirk was cool and my control was impressive.” Kaminari snorts. “He seemed nice, really, he did. And, I dunno, no one wanted to be my friend before U.A., so when he asked if I wanted to hang out, I said yes. I was really excited.

“It was nice for a bit. I met some of his friends, and they told me I was fun to be around and it was nice. Then they started, I dunno, they started being weird about my tics.” Kaminari cuts himself off with something akin to a scoff or a laugh. Midoriya opens his mouth, but shuts it after receiving a look from Aizawa.

“That’s how it always goes. But they were like… really interested in them. My verbal tics, I mean. Most people just laugh at me or tell me to shut up, but they wanted to hear them for whatever reason.” Kaminari scrunches his nose with disdain. “Then Kobayashi started using his quirk on me like it was a party trick. It was fine at first because they were still nice to me, I guess. But then they started mocking them more and more, and it really hurt. Then they started telling me to stop physically ticcing cause it makes me look more stupid than I already am. And, like, I get that I’m stupid, but it really hurts when someone you trusted just… gah!” Kaminari’s voice grows as he speaks, his Pikachu plushie is all wrinkled with how tight he holds it.

Iida starts to shake at her side, his fists clenched so tightly they look white.

Kyouka reaches out and grasps Iida’s hand, squeezing lightly. She isn’t sure why she does it, she and Iida aren’t particularly close compared to their other friendships. But she does it anyway.

He squeezes back.

“Next thing I know, they’re parading me around their dorm, showing me off like a f*cking jukebox or something—uh, sorry for swearing, Aizawa-sensei,” Kaminari continues, his head bobbing up and down. “They recorded me at some point and started playing it when I was around so I’d tic. I asked them to stop, and I told them I was uncomfortable, but they just kept laughing.

“I got fed up with it last week and told them I didn’t wanna be around them anymore. They just kept laughing and asked why I would leave when I found people who like my tics. No one else would ever love me because of them. No one else wants me around. I’m too annoying. Y’know, the usual stuff.”

The usual stuff, he says.

Kyouka feels sick to her stomach. One glance around the room and Kyouka knows everyone is just as pissed as she is. Bakugou glares at the floor with so much venom and acid she’s surprised it doesn’t cower or melt away. Midoriya’s face wavers between being appalled and furious. Iida’s breathing heavily. Even Aizawa’s usual resting bitch face twitches just enough for her to feel the anger radiating off him.

Denki goes on, oblivious to everyone’s utter despair. “I tried not to let it bother me but… it’s hard, guys. When people you thought were your friends reiterated the same sh*t you’ve heard your whole life. And ticcing just reminded me of them, so I figured, why bother? I’d save everyone the trouble of dealing with me and I’d save myself from them.” He laughs, tired and sad. It wavers then tapers off.

“I guess Kobayashi didn’t like that I dropped them so he started following me around and bothering me. It’s all so stupid.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Midoriya quavers. “We would’ve helped you. You didn’t have to avoid us.”

“Because it’s embarrassing!” Kaminari practically shouts, voice breaking. “Do you know how humiliating it is to not be able to control your own body? And then for other people to find a little cheat code and control what you do and say? If I stopped ticcing around you guys, then you would’ve noticed and I’d have to face the fact that I’m not strong enough to stand up for myself!”

“Kaminari—”

“No! I’m not! I can’t! I can’t stand up for myself when they trigger tic attack after tic attack!”

Tears fall down Kaminari’s cheeks, quietly. He shoves his face in his plushie, body shuddering.

Kyouka wants to move, wants to say something, but words aren’t her forte. She has no idea how to even begin comforting him, especially when all she can think is, how did I not notice?

Sure, she deserves some credit for noticing his distance and suppression—woohoo, gold star for her! She caught the blatantly obvious! But that means nothing, in the long run.

Kobayashi tormented him for an entire month. And no one noticed.

Everyone is frozen, caught in the same web of, how did I miss this that she is. Bakugou, for all his bravado and tough-guy act, is silent. His eyes squeeze shut so tight that he must see a myriad of colors.

Guilt practically pours out of Midoriya, suffocating and dry. Tears well in his eyes, but they haven’t fallen yet. They’re stuck, just like all of them.

And then Iida lurches forward, yanking his hand out of Kyouka’s.

He pulls Kaminari to his chest and gives him the biggest, most desperate hug in the world. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, so softly that Kyouka’s sure she’s the only one that can hear him. “You aren’t weak, Denki. You’re strong. We noticed you stopped ticcing, we wanted to help you. I’m sorry we didn’t figure it out. I’m sorry. You’re not weak.”

It’s weird seeing Iida so… emotional, so touchy. Iida isn’t the kind of person to just run at someone and hug them. But, Kyouka supposes, Iida’s relationship with Kaminari is far different from his relationships with everyone else. They share something no one else in class does, something deep and personal. It’s not something they’ll ever be able to truly understand.

They hug for awhile. Kyouka tries to tune Iida out to let them have their private moment, but she can’t really control how much she hears. She scooches further away, stopping by Aizawa. Midoriya, on Kaminari’s other side, does the same.

They break apart smiling small, more relaxed smiles. Kaminari nudges Iida’s shoulder playfully and Iida rolls his eyes, readjusting his glasses.

“Forgive us for the, erm, for the public displays of affection—”

“Nah, I’m not sorry,” Kaminari interjects, resting his head on Iida’s shoulder and hugging him from behind. He sticks his tongue out at Bakugou, who looks disgusted.

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“What? Are we not allowed to hug other people? You’re just jealous that I cuddle with Kiri during movie nights and not you.”

Bakugou’s face turns an impressive shade of red, whether from anger or embarrassment Kyouka isn’t sure, and he lunges for Kaminari.

And it’s suddenly loud again, what with Bakugou shouting, Kaminari’s shrill laughter, and Iida’s reprimands, but Kaminari is acting like his usual, goofy self again, so she doesn’t mind at all. Midoriya’s shoulders sag with relief, and even Aizawa’s face has loosened into something super close to but not quite a relaxed smile.

The best part, though, is that Kaminari is ticcing again. Not in the forced, frightened way he was earlier, but naturally.

His eyes are still rife with years of shame and hurt, that won’t change over the course of an afternoon, but they’re lighter. Iida really pulled through, huh.

Aizawa lets it go on for a minute exactly. “Okay, that’s enough, problem children. We’re not done talking.”

They spend the next hour listening to Aizawa lecture them about how, no, Iida-kun, you shouldn’t have beat the guy up, good on you for sticking up for your classmate but that’s Bakugou-kun levels of impulsiveness. And, no, Kaminari-kun, you aren’t in trouble, please, for the love of all things holy, come to a teacher if anything like this happens again, especially if another student uses their quirk on you. And, no, Kaminari-kun, I can’t give Iida-kun extra credit for punching a guy even though he was defending your honour. And, yes, we’re seeing to it that Kobayashi-kun gets punished, we’ll update you once we have a conference, please don’t take matters into your own hands. And other things like that.

Classes are nearly done by the time Aizawa finishes. In an act of surprising compassion, Aizawa excuses them from their last period and a half.

“Iida-kun, don’t forget to change your bandages. Kaminari-kun, your body’s been through a lot of stress today, try resting the remainder of the evening. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go fill out a bunch of paperwork.” Aizawa stands up, running a hand through his hair. Before he leaves, he turns back to Kyouka and the others and says, “I’m proud of you, problem children.”

Then he’s gone.

They spend the next few minutes making sure Kaminari and Iida are alright and that they didn’t overstep earlier. Kaminari assures them that they’re fine. “You guys were, like, super badass!” he says. “I didn’t really catch most of it cause I was out’ve it, but Ten—Iida, man, you were so cool!”

Kaminari flushes, fingers tapping the Pikachu. “Uh, but, um, thank you, guys. I was really—I wasn’t… ugh! You guys really saved my ass. I don’t know why I froze, well, I do, but things would’ve gotten a lot worse if you guys didn’t step in, so, thank you.”

“Of course!”

“We’ve got your back, idiot.”

“Yeah!”

“Whatever,” Bakugou grumbles, clearly trying not to say anything even remotely sappy and sweet. “But I know you didn’t eat lunch today, Sparky, and the rest of us didn’t eat much either. I expect to see all you idiots at dinner, got it?”

“Aw, that’s so kind of you, Kacchan!”

“Shut up!”

Bakugou chases Midoriya out of Kaminari’s room and down the hall, screaming some nonsense about how he just doesn’t want their lack of food to affect their performances in class and make him look stupid. Iida follows behind them, still attempting to lecture the both of them, bless his heart. Kyouka and Kaminari meet each other’s eyes and snicker.

“Hey,” Kaminari says before she can leave, “uhhh, thank you for calming me down back there, and sorry for shocking you.” He winces.

She shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. You would’ve done it for me. Also, don’t think too highly of yourself, they didn’t even hurt.”

“They did mess up your hair, though!” Kaminari bites back a grin, reaching up and ruffling her already disastrous hair.

Kyouka pushes him away and rolls her eyes. “Gee, thanks. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go shower and fix my hair.”

She doesn’t say anything else; she doesn’t need to. Kyouka simply whacks Kaminari’s shoulder with an earphone jack, the only way she knows how to say I’m glad you’re okay.

— —

She passes Iida on her way to the showers. As much as she wants to be down with all the emotional talk, she still has one more thank you to give, and it’ll bother her too much if she doesn’t.

“Hey, Iida?”

Iida turns, smiling tiredly. “Hello, Jirou-chan. Did you need something?”

Kyouka fidgets with her earphone jacks for a moment, biting down on her tongue. Ugh, yet another moment where she wishes she had the social prowess of Kaminari or Midoriya or Ashido. Whatever, it doesn’t have to be perfect.

“I just wanted to thank you for helping Kaminari out,” she says, inwardly cursing as her cheeks grow warm. “He’s my best friend, or whatever, you know? And it was, uh, it was pretty bad ass what you did.”

She hears Iida approach before she sees him. He takes her hands in hers. “There’s no need to thank me,” he replies. “I was just doing what any good class president or friend would do.” He clears his throat sheepishly, releasing her hands and looking over his shoulder. “Although, erm, as you say, ‘bad ass’, I still shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. It was extremely unprofessional.”

She takes a moment to appreciate hearing Iida swear and the awkward way he made little air quotes around it.

“No it wasn’t.” She rolls her eyes and nudges Iida with her foot. “Besides, we’re still kids, you know. It doesn’t always feel like it but we are. We don’t have to be professional yet. I mean, look at all the idiots in our class.”

Iida’s tense shoulders drop a bit, and he glances back to her.

“It doesn’t matter if you get in trouble for what happened today. I mean, I don’t speak for Kaminari or Midoriya, and I definitely don’t speak for Bakugou, but I’m pretty sure any of us would fight back if you did get punished. You may have lost your cool a bit, but you did it protecting a friend. That’s pretty dope, Iida. You were Kaminari’s hero today, no matter what happens next. Don’t sell yourself short.” She snorts. “Besides, if you didn’t get to him first, Bakugou would’ve. It’s probably for the best that you beat the living daylights out of that asshole.”

“Thank you, Jirou-chan,” Iida whispers. “I suppose it is better I got to him first. That was rather insightful. I think… I think I needed to hear that.”

Kyouka punches his shoulder. “Anytime, Prez. You should talk to Kaminari about all this. I think you both need it. But, uh, I’d save it for tomorrow since we just talked and he’s probably planning to cuddle and be all gross with Shinsou tonight, so…”

She doesn’t say that she wants Kaminari to rest and have a chill, low-key night away from the events of the day. And she doesn’t need to. There’s a knowing glint in Iida’s eyes as he nods curtly.

(and, hey, it’s something she wants for Iida, too)

Tonight, Kaminari will have to face the rest of class, the class that’s been worried sick about him this past week, the class that will not hesitate to rain fire on anyone who messes with a friend.

And they’ll be overbearing and weirdly emotional and smother Kaminari with love and then they’ll turn to her and the others who were there and it’ll make a long, exhausting day even longer and more exhausting. And Kaminari will get all embarrassed and uncomfortable and he’ll hate it in the moment, but appreciate it once he’s alone.

Because that’s what class A does. They love and care for each other with so much passion and strength that it’s ridiculous and stupid and… Kyouka wouldn’t have it any other way.

Insomnia is a bitch; Mezo’s learned that the hard way.

Granted he isn’t the only one in class who has insomnia, so at least sleepless nights in the common room aren’t exactly lonely. It’s still a bitch, though.

Another night, another nightmare, and Mezo finds himself in the common room once again. It’s the third time this week.

He’s happy to see Shinsou isn’t playing Animal Crossing on the couch like usual, so he must be actually getting some sleep for once. The other usuals aren’t there either: Tokoyami, Todoroki, Hagakure…

Mezo squints in the dim lighting, rubbing his eyes as he drags himself to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

The clock on the microwave reads: 02:31am in bright red, which means there’s still four more hours until he usually wakes up. Four more hours to… read, maybe? Or he can catch up on a show or play a video game. He does have an assignment for Cementoss’ class he needs to finish, but the final product won’t be any good if he does it tonight, then he’ll just have to redo it.

He mindlessly brews his coffee, pours it in a mug (he thinks it’s one of Satou’s), and trudges to the couch.

The perks of being the only one up means he gets to take up the whole couch for once. He usually avoids the couch since he takes up more space than everyone else. Not that anyone asked him to, he’s just accustomed to making room for others. He doesn’t mind the arm chairs or the floor.

It is kind of nice to lie on the couch, though.

The nights alone can be kinda nice, but they’re also the hardest.

Hard because nightmares are typically what keep Mezo up, and being around the others makes it easier to breathe and remember he’s safe and they’re safe.

It gets lonely, too.

Once the initial fear wears off, the first hour is fine, maybe even relaxing. By the second hour, though, Mezo is restless. He’s spent so much of his life in darkness, well, a metaphorical darkness, really, and being a part of this class brought him into the light—maybe he’s been spending too many late nights with Tokoyami…

Growing up, he was used to being alone, avoided. But now he’s used to being with his makeshift family. So, a couple hours engulfed in the suffocating common room darkness, haunted by the shadows of his night terrors is overwhelming. It’s also underwhelming.

It’s… confusing.

Mezo sighs, leaning back into the plush cushions and pointedly ignoring the way his extra limbs tremble. He grabs his phone and opens the photos. If none of his classmates are awake, he’ll have to settle for the next best thing to ease his mind.

Pictures.

Ashido, Uraraka, Hagakure, and Kaminari (and, on occasion, Sero) are big fans of stealing people’s phones and spamming them with pictures. They get others in on it sometimes, but Mezo is typically greeted by weird, filtered, close-up pictures of those four.

They got their hands on his phone a few days ago. They took fifty pictures (he did, regrettably, have to go through and delete around ¾ of them) and a couple videos. He clicks on the first video and grins as he watches Uraraka rock out to Kaminari dramatically reciting Shakespeare in English while Ashido and Hagakure belt what Mezo’s pretty sure is a song by Arashi. They’re also outside Bakugou’s room.

How they managed to get his phone and record themselves harassing Bakugou without him noticing, he has no clue.

He still can’t help but smile.

Just as Bakugou in the video slams his door open (and he definitely sees Kirishima cackling in Bakugou’s room) and starts to yell, Mezo hears footsteps.

Now, his hearing isn’t as good as Jirou’s, and she’s better at recognizing people by their footsteps and heart rates, but Mezo knows these steps.

Iida’s steps are distinct. He doesn’t exactly stomp like Bakugou, nor is he light on his feet like Ojirou. They’re heavy, purposeful. They slide a lot, too. Mezo isn’t sure if Iida knows he does it, but every few steps or so, his heel drags. Kaminari does something similar where he walks on his toes.

Mezo isn’t an expert, but he thinks it has something to do with Tourette’s. Maybe a tic? It doesn’t particularly matter either way since it’s not hurting anyone.

What does matter is that Iida is approaching.

Iida who goes to bed on a schedule like Bakugou.

Iida who he’s never run into outside of his dorm after hours.

Iida who preaches the importance of a solid eight hours of undisturbed sleep a night.

A part of Mezo feels the need to hide but he’s really too big to hide, and Iida’s not something to be scared of. Besides, he hasn’t put away the coffee supplies yet, so no point in trying to avoid the inevitable.

He makes himself comfortable, shutting his phone off and making sure Iida will see him once he reaches the bottom floor. Mezo learned the hard way not to speak in the darkness without being seen. Kouda doesn’t join them often, but one steaming cup of tea in the face was enough of a lesson.

Soon, he hears Iida mumbling.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters with enough venom to make Mezo flinch. “I can’t even sleep without my shoulders hurting. I didn’t even use them in hero training today! Now it’s two in the morning and I’m tired and I won’t be able to take my usual caliber of notes and I’ll fail and get reprimanded for being out of my dorms after hours and—Shouji-kun!”

Iida nearly topples over a discarded pillow someone forgot to put away. He scowls, picking it up and tossing it onto an armchair. It’s just a toss, but it’s a strong toss. He grimaces, teeth clenched.

Mezo’s brows raise in alarm at Iida’s scowl. Wow, he really isn’t an evening person, is he?

“Hello, Iida-kun.”

“What—what are you doing up? We’re supposed to be sleeping!”

Mezo doesn’t respond, merely crinkling his eyes at the edge as he continues to stare at Iida.

It’s dark in the common room, but there’s enough light from the kitchen and the flashlight on Iida’s phone to convey his exasperation.

As he gets closer, Mezo sees Iida’s blush. Actually, it looks more like his face is flushed instead. It’s red in that steamy, smoke-blowing-out-of-his-ears way he gets when he’s angry.

“Nightmares,” he concedes. “And insomnia. The usual. What about you?”

“Oh, well, my shoulders hurt,” Iida glances at the kitchen. “I came down to warm up my heating pad.”

It’s then that Mezo notices the heating pad slung across Iida’s shoulders. And, now that he’s looking there, his shoulders are high. They’re usually higher than the average person’s, Iida and Kaminari both, but they’re practically touching his ears when they aren’t rolling. And they’re rolling a lot.

“How often do your shoulders wake you up?” Mezo asks as Iida makes his way into the kitchen. He hears the microwave beep as Iida sets it, then it slowly whirs to life.

Iida comes back to the common room with a hand under his shirt rubbing his shoulders. “Not too often,” he says, grimacing. “A few times a month, maybe?”

“You know, a lot of us don’t sleep very well. We meet down here when sleep evades us. You should join next time it wakes you.”

“How-how many of you?”

“Five of us are regulars: Shinsou-kun, Tokoyami-kun, Todoroki-kun, and Hagakure-chan. It depends on the day. Sometimes Kaminari-kun or Midoriya-kun are down here because they hyperfixated so hard they can’t sleep. Sometimes nightmares wake others up and they want to be around people.”

“I see.”

Iida is quiet after that, it’s a bit awkward, but it’s better than getting lectured at almost three in the morning, Mezo supposes.

The microwave beeps and Iida is quick to silence it. Mezo hears him sigh in relief, and when Iida comes back, the heating pad is around his shoulders.

“I’m sorry nightmares kept you up, Shouji-kun.” Iida bows. “I hope you’re able to fall back asleep soon.”

Dread fills his stomach as Iida makes his way back to the stairs. Mezo doesn’t particularly want to be alone again, and something about the sad, resigned look on Iida’s face bothers him. Iida may be strict sometimes, but he’s always there for the class. Mezo can’t even begin to list the amount of sacrifices Iida’s made for them. Seeing him hurting so much is odd, maybe because he isn’t used to it. Iida always puts others before himself.

And then he gets an idea.

“Would you like a massage?”

“What?”

“I can massage your shoulders, if you’d like.” Mezo shrugs. “You don’t look like this—” Mezo gestures to his extra arms and muscles, “—without people asking for massages. I got pretty good at it over time.”

In a way, it’s frustrating that he felt the need to learn to massage for people who made assumptions based on his quirk. They’re the same people who feel more comfortable around him when his mask is on. They don’t really deserve it.

But, over time, he found giving massages relaxing. At least it was when it was someone he cared for on the other side. It was good training for his quirk and helped him strengthen his arms and learn more about the human body.

He hasn’t really shown off this skill in class yet, perhaps due to an underlying instinctual fear of being wanted only for what he can do. It’s silly, he knows, but the feelings aren’t easy to dispose of.

Iida stares at him, wide eyed like he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to accept.

“I—”

“You don’t have to accept,” Mezo says. “But if it’ll ease some of the pain, I’m happy to help you.”

“Are… are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Iida bites his lip, glancing from the stairs to Mezo nervously. Finally, he inches towards him, hunching in on himself. In the solemn darkness of the common room, Iida appears small, scared. Funny, Mezo’s never thought of him as small before.

Mezo doesn’t comment on it; he merely adjusts his position so Iida can sit between his legs. The pain must be awful if Iida gave in so easily.

“It’s easiest if you sit here.” He points to the floor in front of him. “You can grab a blanket if you want. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

It’s a slow process, getting Iida into position. It doesn’t bother Mezo, though, he understands. Accepting help is difficult—embarrassing—especially after spending most of life offering it instead of needing it.

People who are built big and strong like Mezo and Satou, and probably Iida, often get overlooked because they should be strong enough to handle themselves, even if they’re just children. It’s yet another sad fact of life.

While Iida gets situated, Mezo holds his coffee cup. It’s not as hot as it was earlier, but it’s still a soft sort of warm. It should transfer enough heat to his hands.

“Okay.” He sets the cup down on a coaster and cracks his knuckles. “You can get up and leave at any time. If I do something you don’t like, tell me. If something hurts, tell me. Do you feel comfortable enough removing your shirt?”

Iida nods jerkily.

“Would you like help getting it off?”

A pause, and then another nod, this one curt.

Again, Mezo doesn’t speak as he gently lifts Iida’s arm and helps him with his shirt.

“Alright. I’m going to touch your back now. My hands are a little warm, but it shouldn’t be jarring.”

Mezo carefully places his hands on Iida’s back. His skin is kind of cold; smooth but rough at the same time. Miscellaneous bruises from training litter his back, and there are faint scratches running along his shoulder blades, probably from his fingernails.

The biggest thing he notices, though, is how stiff Iida is. It’s like massaging stone or frozen clay at first, kneading into his muscles with resistance.

“Relax,” Mezo whispers. “It won’t work as well if you’re stiff. It’s just me. You’re safe.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Is this your first time getting a massage?”

Iida nods.

“It’s weird the first time. Most people are stiff until they start feeling more comfortable. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”

“I don’t think so. I’ll try to relax.”

His shoulders loosen gradually. It’s a slow process, but it’s slow on Mezo’s side, too. He’s never massaged anyone with Tourette’s before, so he has to account for Iida’s tics. It’s like a dance, moving his hands around Iida’s backside with no warning as his body moves.

Mezo asks Iida how his day was to get him talking. The less he focuses on the massage the better, he figures.

They fall into a soft conversation about a card game Iida’s brother taught him at Iida family game night awhile back. Iida hums every once in awhile, resting his head on Mezo’s knee.

Iida’s shoulders get significantly lower once they start talking, so Mezo presses into his back a little harder.

This is the first time Mezo’s spent one-on-one time with Iida. It’s actually rather nice, not that he expected to hate it or anything. Iida doesn’t relax easily, is all. He’s high-strung and more motivated than just about anyone else Mezo’s met, so sitting and talking with Iida without the weight of saving the world drowning them is refreshing.

In return, Iida asks about his family and how he got so good at massaging. They even talk about their latest literary adventures. Turns out, Iida is also a fan of classic Japanese literature. Mezo hasn’t met many people who are since most teenangers prefer modern stuff. Mezo shares his love for the stories by Kajii Motojirou and Iida tells him all about f*ckuzawa Yukichi’s essays and how they’ve influenced him.

It also feels good. Maybe that’s weird to say, but the repetitive motion is soothing, familiar. Mezo would normally try to work his extra limbs into the massage, but he doesn’t exactly have the energy. The longer they go, the harder Mezo presses, and the better it feels. It also seems like Iida’s enjoying the experience. Once he relaxes, he relaxes. His body practically melts as he leans further into Mezo’s knees.

Mezo gets so into the groove and conversation that he doesn’t realize how much time passes until Iida yawns.

“If you’re feeling better, you should go back to bed,” Mezo says. He glances at the windows. “There’s still a couple hours before you need to be awake. You’ll want to be well rested for class.”

“Mm, you’re probably right.” Iida leans forward and out of Mezo’s hands. “I was not aware so much time passed. You must be exhausted.” He turns to Mezo, smile fading. “I’m sorry for keeping you up.”

Something in Mezo breaks. It wasn’t inconvenient, it was something he wanted to do. Doesn’t Iida know that he’s worth staying up for?

“You didn’t keep me up,” he says. “I would’ve been up anyway, and this way, I did something useful.” He pauses. “Did it help?”

Iida stumbles to his feet and offers a hand to Mezo. “It did. They still hurt, of course, but I can’t remember the last time my shoulders felt this good. I can’t thank you enough.”

“I didn’t do it for a thank you, I did it because I wanted to help you.”

Iida’s hand falls once Mezo is standing. He looks away and rubs at his eyes. “You are… very kind, Shouji-kun. I would’ve been miserable tonight if it weren’t for you. In fact, the heating pad probably wouldn’t have brought enough relief to help me sleep.”

“Then I’m glad you came down to heat it up. And, selfishly, I enjoyed spending time with you.”

“I did, too.”

Mezo picks up the mug and Iida’s discarded heating pad. He hands the pad over to Iida and makes his way to the kitchen. There’s still about a quarter of the coffee left, but it doesn’t feel like a waste as he pours it down the sink. He lightly rinses the mug then sets it on the counter—he’ll wash it more thoroughly after class. He’s actually starting to feel drowsy.

“You can always wake me up if you need another one. Or join the insomniacs and I,” he continues when he returns. Iida’s practically swaying on his feet at this point. “Do you need help getting to your room?”

“I should be fine. What about you?” Iida yawns again, stretching his arms over his head.

“I’m fine, but thank you.”

They exit as they entered; silently.

They’re just two scared, confused, stressed kids who can’t seem to remember how to let loose and be the kids they’re supposed to be.

Sure, class will be excruciatingly long tomorrow, but Mezo doesn’t care. It sounds dramatic, but massaging Iida was an important moment for him. He can’t quite explain it, but he bonded with Iida and got to help him. That’s pretty sacred, he thinks.

Mezo smiles as Iida waves goodnight and disappears down the dark third floor hallway.

He yawns, trudging up one more flight of stairs. He can’t wait to collapse into bed and get a couple more hours of sleep.

He doesn’t have any more nightmares the rest of the week.

“Does it ever bother you?”

Hitoshi looks up from his phone, brows furrowing. “Does what bother me?”

Denki fidgets for a moment, lips pursed as he thinks.

But Hitoshi doesn’t mind. He sets his phone down and traces the ceiling pattern with his eyes while Denki thinks. The hand holding his squeezes tightly, then lets go. A finger curls underneath his thumb nail, then slides down to his palm.

“That,” Kaminari whispers, pointing at their partially entwined hands with his free one. “I’m always tapping you or-or doing weird things with my fingers. And I hold your hand and then let go, like, all the time.”

Hitoshi shrugs. “Yeah.”

Denki’s brows furrow, and he huffs.

That’s Denki’s thinking face, or, as Hitoshi likes to call it, his wandering face. He makes it when he has trouble finding the right words but has something important to say.

So, Hitoshi waits patiently, bumping his head against Denki’s.

He feels the steady rise and fall of his chest, hears his erratic heartbeat. Hitoshi doesn’t really get it, but having all that electricity running through his body at all times makes Denki’s heart beat faster. It was kind of weird at first, but it’s grown to be grounding. He likes listening to it when he zones out of life, when everything gets a little blurry and hazy and feels wrong. Denki’s heartbeat seems to bring life back to him.

“My tics,” Denki says eventually, slowly. “Don’t they bother you when we’re cuddling or-or holding hands?”

“Why would they?”

“Because they’re—dooooooooome—annoying!” Denki leans away from him, releasing his hand. His bottom lip is torn and far too light a pink. He purrs. “I can’t even hold your hand without digging under your fingernails or I do that weird tracing thing! And I have to let go, like, every five seconds! Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Denks, hey.”

Hitoshi loosely cups Denki’s cheeks. He, too, takes a moment to think, pressing his forehead against Denki’s.

So many thoughts run through his head. They bang his skull and parade in circles. There’s so much Hitoshi wants to say but doesn’t know how to.

He doesn’t really feel or notice Denki’s tics anymore. After a couple months together, his tics fell naturally into their dynamic. They aren’t good, they aren’t bad… they just are.

But that probably sounds really weird, and it’s probably not what Denki needs to hear right now.

So, Hitoshi leans back enough to look Denki in the eye and runs his thumb across Denki’s bottom lip. He speaks slowly, trying to compile his muddled thoughts into something coherent.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, sometimes it bothers me—but it only does when I’m already having a bad sensory day. But even then, it’s not annoying. I promise. How can they be annoying when they’re a part of you? And you are so…”

He trails off, embracing the feeling of Denki’s cheeks puffing beneath his fingers, of the way the corners of his lips twitch.

How does he even finish this sentence?

Denki is so many things—so many good things.

He’s the sun bursting through the grey, tired clouds on an empty day. He’s the embodiment of laughter, of authentic joy. He’s the caffeine in his coffee, the little burst of energy that gets Hitoshi through a long day.

Denki is perfect, in a humanly-flawed sort of way.

And every bit of Denki is worth loving, is worth being introduced to being loved. Even if it’s something Denki hates about himself.

“I love…” He pauses, thinks. Love is a strong word, but there isn’t any other way to describe what he feels for Denki. It’s hard to say and gripes his tongue in order to stay hidden, safe in his impenetrable walls. But they aren’t so impenetrable anymore.

Love is a strong word in hero society; be careful who hears it, be wary of what it means. Don’t let the wrong people learn who you cherish most.

They’re still kids, though, and they’re in the privacy of Hitoshi’s dorm, so he figures there isn’t anything wrong with a bit of love, as embarrassing as it is.

“I love everything about you, baby. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

“You can’t promise that,” sniffs Denki. But Hitoshi feels his lips curling into a smile, and he rolls his eyes.

“Maybe I can’t promise anything in the future,” he says, hands trailing down Denki’s face, down to his neck, along his arms, until he grasps his hands. “But I can promise it for now.”

A distorted, blurry touch coats his hands. Denki’s fingers weave up and down his own fingers, tracing the lines and calluses on his palms. One side rubs, another taps.

First the tip of his thumb, then his palm, then the other side of his palm, then his knuckle, then his middle finger, and back to his palm.

“A few taps aren’t enough to make me run away.”

Tears Hitoshi knows Denki won’t allow to fall well up. He blinks rapidly and unsynchronized, letting out a wet chuckle.

“I love you,” Denki whispers between the clicks and chirps and a randomly blurted assortment of words and phrases.

They fall apart, carefully, then come together again like pieces of each other. Denki curls up on Hitoshi’s side, his head lying between his upperarm and the pillow behind them. It seems uncomfortable, but Denki assures him that it’s not. He swears up and down that it's the best place to hear Hitoshi’s heartbeat and that the pressure is nice.

He’ll reemerge when he can’t breathe; he always does. And his face will be red and his hair ruffled and sticking up in even more obscure ways than it naturally does. He’ll pop out with a goofy grin and plant a big, sloppy kiss on Hitoshi’s nose, as loud as he possibly can (and louder still if they’re around other people), and look at Hitoshi with the most gentle, loving eyes that look like they were a gift directly from the sun.

Wow, here he is waxing poetic about Denki’s eyes after beginning the year with the truly moronic and edgy “I didn’t come here to make friends” thing going on.

Funny how people change; how kindness and laughter can change a person.

Hitoshi plops his head on the pillow Denki’s probably about to start suffocating in. He kisses the top of his head, closes his eyes, and breathes.

There isn’t a single thing he’d change about Denki.

Denki wouldn’t be Denki without his tics.

And Hitoshi doesn’t love Denki in spite of his tic, nor does he love Denki because of his tics. No, they have nothing to do with the love he feels for him.

They just are.

And that’s okay.

The common room is eerily silent.

Okay, so it’s not totally silent or anything, but it’s definitely eerie! Almost all of the class is lounging around the common room or the kitchen. The stove sizzles, the news plays on low volume, and some people whisper.

But it still feels so quiet.

Mina shifts uncomfortably in her seat, glancing at the front door nervously.

Kaminari and Iida should be back soon, she reminds herself, shaking out her hands. They’re fine! A little banged up, but fine! And when isn’t someone in class banged up?

(but it’s still so quiet)

Less than a week ago, the teachers had them work on pushing their limits with their quirks. They decided to try something new with Kaminari—something involving a certain type of battery… Mina’s not entirely sure. Kaminari looked kinda nervous about it, but Mina chalked it up to how intimidating the battery thingy looked—it was huge and had little spikes.

It backfired, though, and Kaminari ended up discharging way too much. He couldn’t stop shocking himself and he was screaming and then he had a seizure…

Iida was walking past Kaminari when he discharged, on his way back to the sidelines to grab his water bottle, which he left behind in his haste, so he got hit pretty bad.

Aizawa was instructing Todoroki across the field, so it didn’t matter how fast he ran, the damage was done.

The accident happened on Wednesday, and it was currently Sunday night.

Aizawa said they’d be fine, they just needed to rest and recover. Kaminari is suffering from quirk exhaustion and the right half of his body is temporarily paralyzed. Iida has severe burns running along his body and has a pretty bad concussion from when he fell down.

They’re mostly all healed up, at least, that’s what Mina was told. They may not be totally okay, but they’re okay enough to come home tonight.

So that means everyone is hanging around the common room to see they’re okay for themselves.

“I miss them.” Kirishima is the first to say something, like, really say something with his chest. “I don’t know, it just feels weird without them here.”

“Class never feels complete when people are missing,” Hagakure huffs, a muffled thump implying that she threw her head down on the table.

Midoriya nods. “We have been through a lot together… I always feel better when I see you guys!”

“Awww, that’s so sweet!” Uraraka says at the same time Bakugou mumbles, “That’s so damn stupid”.

And, yeah, Midoriya and Hagakure have a point. Tokoyami was out for half a week the last time someone in class had a big injury. The mood really sunk without him, even thugh he texted almost every day. Mina missed Dark Shadow, too. She never failed to make people smile or give squishy hugs.

Something about this time felt different, though. Not that Iida and Kaminari are more important to the dynamic than Tokoyami or anyone else… Mina’s not sure. It feels like something else is missing and throwing off the class vibes, she just can’t place her finger on it.

“It’s weird without their tics.”

Mina starts, whirling around to face Todoroki. “What?”

Todoroki shrugs like it’s obvious. “Kaminari-kun and Iida-kun have Tourette’s. We’re used to hearing their verbal tics in the dorms and in class.”

“Oh my gosh, you’re so right!” Mina cries, running a hand through her hair. Once upon a time, Mina joked that Kaminari should send her a mixed tape of his tics, for those lonely nights when he went home for the weekend. Then Sero wanted one, then Kirishima, and Bakugou said that he’d rather die than listen to that tape…

And one day, Kaminari told them, giggling, he’d give them a CD of tics one day.

… she kinda wishes she had it now.

“I didn’t realize…” Shouji murmurs, scratching his head. “I didn’t realize how normal they were. We’re not on the same floor, but I can usually hear at least Kaminari’s at night, kind of like white noise. Maybe that’s why I’ve been sleeping so poorly…”

Jirou groans and flops against Yaoyorozu. “Oh my god, that explains so much. I barely hear them anymore, they’re always just…” She waves her hands around. “They’re just there. Damn…”

Everyone kind of moves on after that. Bakugou and Satou head back to the kitchen to finish dinner, Yaoyorozu and Kouda return to their homework, and Mina busies herself with painting Aoyama’s nails, sitting in a way so they can both keep an eye on the door.

Dinner comes and goes, the table talk more subdued than usual. Mina and Aoyama finish each other’s nails, so they move on to Todoroki and Sero’s. Shinsou flips through the tv channels with a worried boredom.

It’s nearing nine when Shouji and Jirou perk up, heads whipping to the door which can only mean one thing.

Mina jumps to her feet before she even sees Kaminari and Iida enter, and the only thing holding her back from pouncing on them is Kirishima’s hold on her collar. Damn that beautiful, muscley man.

There they are—Kaminari and Iida in all their bandaged glory.

Kaminari has a crutch under each arm. His eye bags are so dark they look bruised, and long, pinkish tree branch-looking lines run down his neck down to his fingers.

Iida hovers by Kaminari’s side, an arm behind him in case he falls. That’s the class president—always thinking ahead. There’s a nasty yellowish green bruise along the right side of his face, and the lens on his glasses look darker than usual. Eh, that makes sense considering his concussion.

Unfortunately, Kaminari’s crutches are super drab. Luckily, Mina prepared for such an occasion and has a stockpile of stickers at the ready in her room. Aoyama probably has some rhinestones to spare, too, and maybe they can convince Iida to let them spruce his concussion glasses up a bit…

Yikes, she needs to reel it back in. Aizawa is brooding in the doorway and probably wants to speak before he leaves, so she should probably listen.

“Alright, problem children.” Aizawa’s voice is raspy and just so done. “Don’t overwhelm them. They’ll be fine, they just need another week to heal.” He points to Iida. “No bright lights, no loud noises. Don’t shove any electronics in his face.”

Aizawa looks directly at Mina as he says that, which, rude.

He points at Kaminari. “He needs to go to Recovery Girl’s office once a day for the next four days. His right side isn’t back to normal yet so he needs to use his crutches. He has cream to put on his lichtenberg figures a couple times a day until they fade. Before you ask, they’re scars someone receives after getting hit by lightning. Yes, they’ll go away, they’ll just take longer to fade since the lightning came from his body.”

Kaminari sloppily flashes a peace sign, lips puckered, which gets a laugh out of Mina and some others and a scoff out of Bakugou. He parrots the scoff, and the atmosphere seems to brighten just a bit.

Aizawa sighs very deeply. “No quirk usage for either of them until they’re cleared by Recovery Girl. No school until Wednesday. No training until next week. I’m giving Yaoyorozu-chan all the medications because knowing this class, everyone else would lose it.”

Yeesh, harsh, but fair.

“Any questions?” Aizawa tosses a plastic bag at Yaoyorozu.

Mina has some, but it’s past Aizawa’s bedtime, so she’ll just ask later cause she’s nice like that.

“Great. Don’t keep them up too late. Call Mic if you need anything. Goodnight.”

Yeah, okay. “Call Mic if you need anything” is code for “call me if you need anything” since Aizawa is too emotionally constipated to admit he cares about them.

Aizawa leaves, and everyone instantly rushes Kaminari and Iida.

“Heyyyy,” Kaminari greets, waving with his left hand. His right one kinda twitches a bit, so things are looking a little better! “Did ya miss us?”

“Oh my God, Kami, babes, I missed you so much!” Mina screeches, running to Kaminari and sweeping him up in a giant hug in theory. In reality, she’s able to give him a side hug with an extra (light) squeeze for good measure.

After, like, half a second, Shinsou pushes her away with a stupid pout, and pulls Kaminari into a gentle hug.

Mina rolls her eyes, but, whatever, at least she got a hug in before the boyfriend. She turns to give Iida a quick hug as well. “You too, Iida-kun. We were all going stir crazy without you guys!”

It’s comical how Kaminari and Iida’s heads tilt to the side in tandem. “Huh?”

“What she’s saying, mon ami,” Aoyama interjects, giving Iida a quick side hug and a peck on the cheek, “is that the dorms were simply too quiet without you here!”

“I apologize for our absence,” Iida says. “Rest assured we’ll study while we’re stuck in the dorms and will do our best to catch up what we missed.”

Kaminari throws his head back and groans at the reminder of missing work.

Mina gasps, thoroughly scandalized and clutches her arm to her chest so she doesn’t punch Iida’s shoulder. “Iida, babes! Don’t you dare apologize!”

“Yeah! It was just an accident!” Sero adds. “Besides, you didn’t really miss much.”

Kaminari’s face twitches briefly, but it definitely isn’t in a ticcy way because Mina know all his everr-changing tics and twitches. Her hands find their way to her hips, and she tuts under her breath. “Kamibabe, don’t you dare! This isn’t your fault, either!”

“If anything, it’s the staff’s fault for letting you try something new with your quirk unsupervised,” Todoroki says, shrugging.

“And even then, how was anyone to know your quirk would react like that? All that matters now is that you guys are okay!” Yaoyorozu chirps as she sifts through the bag Aizawa gave her.

It’s kind of comical how, after almost a week of silence, Kaminari and Iida both tic at the same time.

Kaminari’s brows scrunch, his eyes squeeze shut, and he makes a sort of yelping noise followed by, “bu-bu-bu”.

At the same time, Iida withdraws his arm from Kaminari’s back. His arm rises, then falls, rises, then falls, then pumps. He lets out a mumbled, “whoop”.

A soft pink blossoms on their faces and Iida scratches the back of his neck. His mouth opens, closes, then opens again, and ooooh, Mina just knows he’s about to apologize.

“You don’t need to apologize, silly!” she sighs, hands on her hips.

“Yeah!” Satou chimes in, leaning against the counter. “It was so weird without you guys. We missed your tics.”

Kaminari almost falls over. He would have if not for Shinsou steadying him. “You… you did?”

It hurts how hopeful he sounds. Like they’ll turn around and laugh in his face which raises so many concerns and Mina will beat a man for them if she has to.

“I don’t think any of us realized how… normal it was to hear your tics,” Kirishima confesses. “A part of me kinda associates them with safety, I guess. Like, I know you guys are safe when I hear them.”

The and alive isn’t said, but everyone hears it anyways. Their class has basically been through hell at this point. Sometimes, the familiar is comforting and the lack of status quo is scary and stressful.

Just like how accustomed everyone is to the faint chittering of animals on the third floor or the blender whirling in the morning as Kirishima makes his protein shakes. It’s the little things they’ve all gotten used to disappearing that frightens them the most.

What happened was just an accident, and everyone knows, but knowing something for a fact doesn’t stop the nightmares, nor does it get rid of trauma.

Mina scooches closer to them and stage whispers, “You didn’t hear it from me, but Blasty actually started whistling while he cooked yesterday! I think he missed you!”

“Shut up, no I didn’t!”

He totally did, Mina mouths to Kaminari, not even bothering to conceal her giggles.

As if on cue, Kaminari’s whistles. It’s loose and kinda floppy and really out of tune, but it happens, and Mina’s heart swells.

“No matter how loud everyone got, it still felt like something was missing,” Tsu explains.

“Yeah! Like it didn’t matter how normal everything seemed because it wasn’t. It’s not normal without you guys and your-your tics!” Midoriya says quickly, playing with the fingers on his hands. “Sorry if that’s offensive, we just—”

“Hey, n—nuh-nuh-nuh—no!” Kaminari says, lazily waving his hand. “It’s not offensive, bro! It’s kinda sweet…” he trails off, humming, then yawns. “Sometimes I worry that it’s, like, really annoying, ya’know? Kinda like that you guys like it. No one’s ever liked it before.”

A sad, heavy silence falls over the room. Kaminari’s smile slowly fades, and he hides his face in Shinsou’s chest. Iida suddenly becomes very interested in the floor and pushes his glasses further up his nose. Mina isn’t sure how he does it—just when she thinks it has reached its peak, he still manages to push them higher. It’s impressive, really.

Glasses aside, Mina makes a promise to herself to kill anyone who ever makes Kaminari and Iida feel like that again. The whole class is so ride or die she knows they’ll help out. Plus, Tokoyami is always boasting about how he knows the best ways to dispose of a body, and if all else fails, they have the class “How to Get Away With Murder” guide that Midoriya has carefully hidden.

But before she seeks vengeance, Mina decides that she's gonna love and appreciate them so hard that they’ll never be sad again! Yeah, that’s what she’ll do!

She bounces over to her boys and places a quick, swift kiss on each of their cheeks. “We love you guys,” she whispers, placing a hand on their cheeks and smushing their faces together. “We love you so damn much, tics and all.”

“Tics and all…” Kaminari echoes, slowly, like he’s tasting the words. “Tics and…” He holds the ‘d’ sound out until he yawns it away and rubs his eyes.

Yaoyorozu claps her hands. “I think now’s a good time to head to bed, don’t you? If someone wants to help Iida-kun and Kaminari-kun to their dorms, I can prepare their medications.”

Mina prepares to fight to the death to help her sparky boy up to his room while Iida attempts to insist he doesn’t need help, which is ultimately super futile because like hell they’re gonna let him trudge upstairs on his own, but Kouda raises their hand and gestures between Ojirou and themself before she can even vaguely threaten anyone into letting her do it.

And she can’t fght Kouda to the death! That’s, like, one of the sacred, unspoken dorm rules! If she ends Kouda, who’s gonna take care of their animals? Plus, she’d miss them!

“Kouda-kun and I will,” Ojirou translates, moving over to a half-asleep Kaminari. “Our rooms are next to theirs anyway.” He glances at Shinsou, who sends him a very impressive glare, and sighs. “He’s basically asleep, I’ll take the crutches if you carry him?”

Shinsou considers this, nodding after a second. He passes Kaminari’s crutches over to Ojirou. He leans down and whispers something in Kaminari’s ear, to which Kaminari hums in response, then he bends at the knees and lifts Kaminari into his arms.

“It’ll be easier this way, relax,” Ojirou says specifically to Bakugou who is scowling with a whole lotta poison, watching their every move with narrowed, beady eyes.

Ooo, if Kaminari wasn’t sleepy or injured, Mina would totally egg Bakugou on to get their man back. A three way fight between Bakugou, Ojirou, and Shinsou would be super fun: protective boyfriend versus protective friend versus protective Bakugou. Maybe she’ll start something tomorrow just to see what happens. Her money’s on Ojirou. Actually… nah, Shinsou won’t let himself lose when Kaminari’s involved.

While Shinsou and Ojirou take care of Kaminari, Kouda helps Iida maneuver an arm around their shoulders then secures an arm around his waist.

The five, followed by Yaoyorozu holding the bag of medications and water bottles, head to the elevator. Despite how exhausted they are, Mina sees the traces of smiles on their faces. They’re happy, and they’re loved.

And then the doors close and they’re gone.

The common room is, once more, thrown into silence, but it isn’t daunting or desolate anymore. It just is.

“They’re okay,” Todoroki says after a bit.

And thus begins the train of relieved sighs.

They’re okay.

Denki has never known a day of peace in his life.

From the electricity running through his veins to the noises hurling out of his mouth, his life has never been quiet, nor has it been peaceful.

He grew up being scolded for making noises or moving weirdly. He hid his tics because he was told they made him a freak, they made people uncomfortable. No one wanted to hear a kid shriek like a wet cat every few minutes.

But…

Kirishima passes him a handful of popcorn, and some of the pieces slip through the cracks his fingers so graciously decide to make. And Kirishima doesn’t roll his eyes at him or tell him to get it together.

His hand slides under his with practiced ease and he catches the stray pieces before they hit the ground then pops them in his mouth.

There’s a bird in the movie they’re watching, and Denki has to echo its song every couple minutes. Tenya even parrots him, and they call back and forth to each other across the room.

At some point during the night, Shinsou leans against Denki, his head resting on his shoulder. And he doesn’t move, even when Denki shrugs and shrugs and shrugs like there’s no tomorrow.

And no one says anything.

No one complains, no one asks him to stop, no one tells him or Tenya that they’re ruining the movie.

And, yeah, his body still hurts like hell and the electricity in him still runs rampant and his tongue still follows the whim of every sound it hears, but…

Denki looks around the common room, looks as Tokoyami and Aoyama cuddle in the most awkward yet intimate way possible, as Tsu sleeps in Ojirou’s lap, curled up like a cat, as Mina does Todoroki’s nails while Sero watches whistfully from across the room, and…

And he looks as Uraraka lies across Tenya’s lap as Hagakure attempts to braid his hair from behind. He sees how Hagakure keeps coming back, working her fingers through his hair, every time, even after he almost knocks her in the nose.

And Denki thinks that, maybe, this is what peace feels like.