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Raindrops fall onto the windowsill as the middle of the night rain washes away the guilt he feels. He knows that he should probably clean up, the whole place smells like cheap booze and snubbed out blunts. He would feel remorse for his actions but a deeper part of him says that this is fine.
Says that It’s acceptable for him, a pro-hero in training, to be nearly passed out on his bed with bottles upon bottles of alcohol that he in no way could have purchased legally. It is perfectly fine that he miraculously found a way to afford a whole ounce of weed when he can barely afford nor remember to eat every day. All of this is fine.
Listening to the rain pound outside her tries to close his eyes and drift off but his mind won't let him. His head hurts like hell, it’s all scrambled and messy like eggs on a rushed Monday morning. And God, he can’t help but picture the face of disappointment he’ll see when someone find him.
When someone finds him in his drunken stupor and then gets him expelled. When someone finds him and then lectures him. Or, if we're to go with the worst-case scenario when someone finds him and then just leaves him be.
He knows that won’t happen. Everyone at UA is too nosey to just mind their damn business and let him slowly kill himself in peace. After all, being in everyone’s business comes with the title of ‘hero’.
He picks himself up from his bed and rolls himself over on the floor with a thud. Luckily, the noise of his body hitting the floor is masked by the thunderous storm outdoors and no-one comes to check on him.
He takes a deep breath. Then takes another. And with what little strength he has he curls himself into a sitting position. Opening his eyes he notes his vision is blurry and everything is wobbly but he can handle skewed vision, he’s found himself drunk and out on the floor before. This is nothing.
It takes a while but eventually he finds his balance and begins the slow walk to his bathroom. After an eternity he makes it in but not before tripping over a few bottles that lay all over his floor. Begrudgingly he flicks the switch and winces at the flood of light that comes into his eyes.
Now his vision is fucked up even more. Excellent.
After a moment his eyes adjust and stares at himself. He stares at his hair, how it’s all matted and sad looking. How, despite purple being his natural color, it looks pale and in need of a dye job. He looks at his eyes. The bags underneath them sing the tale of just how little sleep he’s gotten since the second semester started.
His mouth is crusty and his lips are chapped. He looks like shit. He looks like shit, he feels like shit, he practically is shit at this point. And no one is here to help him get his act together.
Then again, why should anyone be? He’s almost an adult, he’ll graduate in four months and he’ll be in the real world. No one helps each other out in the real world. It’s every man for himself out there.
He doesn’t deserve any help anyway. It’s no one else's fault that he’s a mess. It’s all on him.
“Tch,” he rolls his eyes and turns out the light. He can’t stand to look at himself anymore, it’s too exhausting.
Walking out of his bathroom he takes two steps before his foot lands on a bottle and it rolls from up underneath him. He screams. Honest to God, he screams and then he falls over and the bottle cracks open and then he’s on the ground with a cut foot. And he wants to scream again, he wants to curse to whatever God will listen. He wants to yell until his lungs give out.
But instead, he just bits into his bottom lip and muffles a pathetic cry.
Worse yet the noise outside has dampened. The rain is letting up. There could have been a chance someone heard him. He waits a beat to ensure that he’s safe from confrontation.
He isn’t.
“Shinso?” A familiar voice asks from outside his door. “Are you alright?”
No. He’s not alright! He’s got glass in his foot, he’s in between drunk off his ass and terrible hangover, and he’s high as fuck! He is in no way, shape, or matter alright.
“Mhm, I’m good. Sor--” a particularly sharp pain from his foot cuts him off and he hisses. “Sorry I mean. Sorry for being loud I just got up to use the restroom and--” He stops talking when he sees the door opening and at the moment he wants to die. He wants to just die so he doesn’t have to talk about this but he knows the universe will never be so benevolent.
“Hitoshi, oh my God.”
All he can do is gargle out a soft “Get out” before Denki is by his side with the most confused and hurt face known to man.
“Oh God, oh my God, are you okay? No, of course, you aren’t you’re bleeding and you're on the floor and you’re-- are you high?”
“Kaminari shut up please--.”
He takes a sniff and says, “You're stoned as fuck.” The blond then scans the surroundings and frowns at all the bottles that litter the area. “Hitoshi what the hell happened?”
“Don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Babe you have to--”
“No Denki. I have a piece of glass in my foot and I’m laying on the ground in my own filth. I don’t have to talk about it. I don’t have to do shit.”
Silence overtakes the two of them and Kaminari thinks about what to do next. “Stay here,” he says after a short while and leaves the room.
“Where else could I go dumbass?”
Seconds later he arrives back in the room and turns on the light and shuts the door. “Okay, so I brought a first aid kit ‘cause I didn’t know if you had one or not but uh, can I see your foot?”
“No.”
Giving Shinso a crooked smile he maneuvers himself around the man anyway and begins spraying antiseptic spray on the gash.
“Okay, I’m going to pull it out now so don’t be too loud.”
Shinso bits into his lip again and this time he draws blood.
Beginning the bandaging process Denki lightly questions him but at every turn, he avoids an answer. Soon enough his foot is completely wrapped up.
“I’m gonna carry you to bed alright?”
“Hng,” is the only response.
Hitoshi is put to bed, underneath the covers and given a single good night kiss on the cheek.
“Okay,” Denki sighs to himself, “I’m gonna clean up. You shouldn’t have to worry about this mess.”
It takes a while but Denki does, in fact, manage to clean up all the garbage in the room. He brushes the broken glass into a pen and disposes of it properly first, then begins to get rid of the different scorch marks around the bed that were definitely caused by snubbing joints on the frame. And finally, he freshens up the air, allowing the smoke and stench of beer to linger out via the window.
The whole effort takes about forty-five minutes and when he’s done he’s proud of his work. He turns back to Shinso who stares back at him. Damn, Kaminari was really hoping he’d be asleep but he guesses that when your an insomniac sleep really never is that easy.
Sitting on the side of the bed he says “Hey, you wanna talk about it now?”
“Not really.”
“Oh.”
“But I will. For you,” Shinso gives a really weak smile and props himself up on his elbows. He takes a deep breathe and then speaks. “I’m scared Denki. Really fucking scared.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s November,” he softly laments, “In four months we’ll be heroes, actual real-fucking-deal heroes and I can’t do that. I can’t just leave this place, it’s all that’s keeping me away from them.”
Right. Them. Sometimes Kaminari forgets just how lucky he is in the parent department but anytime the Shinso family is even mentioned in passing he tends to remember how grateful he is for his parents and their undying support and unconditional love for him.
“That’s not true you have offers for when you graduate. And there will be even more, you don’t have to go back to them.”
“No, no, no, all of them aren’t paid they’re more of internships, and I can’t even begin to think about the expense of--”
Denki puts a finger to his boyfriend's lips. “Sweetheart, baby, sugar plum, love of my life… you never, and I mean never will have to rely on them again. Your parents are bastards, they suck. They don't deserve you. So I’ll take care of you no matter what happens.”
“But what if I can't find work and--"
“Aye, no. What did I say? I said I’ll take care of you. You are gonna get paid job offers I promise you, babe. And if you don't it won't even matter ‘cause I will make sure your okay. You and I in four months will be living together forever and there is nothing in this world that's gonna stop that, you hear me Hitoshi?”
Shinso nods once. “But still what if--”
“What if this, what if that, what if what? What if we both die tomorrow, what if we find the perfect cat to adopt after graduation, what if your damn parents miraculously become decent people next week? What if Hitoshi?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Hitoshi, C'mon, gimme an answer here.”
“I don’t know,” he wails into his hands. “I don’t know and that’s why I’m scared! I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future and it terrifies me!”
Denki, bless his heart, just grabs him and holds him tight. “Then stop thinkin’ about it. Stop stressing yourself out f you don’t know. Your quirk isn’t future vision so don’t try and make it that.”
“It’s not that simple.”
Giving his boyfriend another kiss on the cheek Kaminari looks deep into those exhausted eyes. “Then make it that simple. Make it simple and easy and stay with me.”
And what can Shinso do other than let out a horse laugh? “God, I love you Denki.”
“I love you more Hitoshi,” he counters with a smile evident in his voice.
“Are you going to tell Aizawa about this tomorrow?” Shinso asks after a couple of minutes listening to his boyfriend’s jolty yet soothing heartbeat.
“Maybe. But don’t worry about it, worry about right now not hours from now.”
“Keep it simple,” he mumbles into the crook of the blonde's neck.
“Keep it simple.”