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Maybe it was cliché to be worrying over his appearance in the mirror, but Shinsou couldn’t help but spot every single one of the imperfections on his face.
Sleep never came easy to him, and as of late, it was especially bad. The eyebags under his eyes were dark bruises that were puffy and thick with creases. The bathroom lighting just so carefully made the scars over his cheekbones and nose shine, no matter how much concealer he put over them. And there was a pimple on the tip of his nose that was now red and sore after spending the morning messing with it.
He didn’t even want to look at his hair. After spending weeks ignoring it and letting it flop into his eyes, he finally pulled out his products and piled them thick into his locks. Normally, it wasn’t hard to tame and it sprung up in all directions at his discretion. Now, he simply looked like an electrocuted hedgehog.
Groaning at his reflection, Shinsou pulled at the skin around his eyes until he could see the inside of his eyelids, hoping that when he looked into the mirror, a different face glared back at him.
He wasn’t so lucky. Somehow, he looked worse than he did five seconds ago.
“‘Toshi! I need a wee!” Eri’s voice sounded through the door.
“Just a minute!” Shinsou called back, giving himself a once over, despite how fruitless it was.
“No! I need to go!”
Huffing, Shinsou shoved his products back into the cupboard before unlocking the door. Eri wasted no time barrelling past him and slamming the door behind him, knocking him into the corridor.
Rubbing where the door handle knocked into his back, Shinsou made his way downstairs to the smell of breakfast. Yamada was humming along to the radio, his hips swaying to the music as he stood over a hot stove. Jelly, the mama-cat they were fostering, was at his heels meowing up at him, almost as if she was singing along.
“Morning,” Shinsou murmured.
“Morning, baby. How ‘bout some-?” Yamada turned around, and without meaning to, eyed Shinsou’s hair before darting his attention back to Shinsou’s face. “Eggs?”
Shinsou pouted and ran his fingers through his hair, tugging when they got stuck.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” Yamada’s lips wobbled, holding back a smile, as he snuck another glance at Shinsou’s hair.
“It’s not that bad.” Shinsou slumped down at the kitchen island, flopping his face into his arms.
“No, it looks good. Very stylish.” Yamada patted his head, hissing as one of the locks stabbed his palm.
Shinsou grumbled.
“What happened to your hair?” Aizawa asked, walking into the room with a chorus of noisy kittens following him.
“Shou!”
“Kid looks like a hairbrush.”
Shinsou threw Aizawa the dirtiest look he could muster, earning a smirk in return.
“Could poke someone’s eye out.” Aizawa chuckled, mockingly hovering his hand over Shinsou’s hair.
“Are you done?” Shinsou slapped his hand away.
“I could go on for days.” Aizawa wrestled Shinsou’s hand to the table while poking at his spikey hair with his other hand. “I have plenty of arsenal being married to that.” He nodded his head towards Yamada.
“ That? ” Yamada shrieked.
“You and the kid could run a ‘heroes with bad hair’ channel. I’m sure it would be popular.”
“I’m sorry some of us know how to use shampoo and have style!” Yamada waved a spatula at Aizawa.
Shinsou managed to wiggle his way out of Aizawa’s hold, elbowing the man in the ribs. It would’ve been satisfying if he didn’t just laugh at the attack. And then even more insulting, he pulled away and dragged Yamada closer, kissing him softly on his cheek.
“You can’t just try buttering me up after insulting my hair!” Yamada squealed, pushing at Aizawa who held onto Yamada’s waist, keeping him in place.
“I can,” Aizawa mumbled, giving him another kiss.
“I’m right here.” Shinsou wrinkled his nose at the overly affectionate display. In reality, he kind of adored how dotting his foster fathers were. It was a nice change from the usual bickering and arguing his old fosters used to behave towards each other. “You’re so gross.”
Aizawa only smiled at him, his expression warm as he rested his cheek on Yamada’s shoulder.
Shinsou looked away, his face suddenly blistering hot. Sometimes, there were moments like this that reminded him how much love his family had towards him. It was new, and yet, terrifyingly embarrassing. The attention made him squirm far more than watching his parents kiss.
“You seem happy this morning,” Shinsou mumbled.
“Hmm.” Aizawa hummed.
“More like drunk-tired.” Yamada pulled Aizawa off him. “Did you even try to sleep last night?”
“The kittens were lonely,” Aizawa yawned into Yamada’s shoulder, putting himself back against his husband’s side.
Both Yamada and Shinsou rolled their eyes.
“We can smell it. Did they throw up on you?” Yamada took a whiff of Aizawa, his nose curling at the smell.
“They’re only babies,” Aizawa defended, burying his face into Yamada’s shirt.
“Ew. Go shower, you disgusting little man.” Yamada slapped Aizawa’s arm. “And to think I love him,” Yamada said, shaking his head at Shinsou. “Make sure you do better.”
Shinsou ducked his head, drawing his shoulders to his ears.
“…Uh, that reminds me.” Shinsou bit his lip. “Denki is coming over later.”
Both Yamada and Aizawa paused, the latter bringing his head up from his ten-second nap on Yamada’s shoulder.
“The hair makes sense now.”
“Oh my god, Shouta. Go shower.” Yamada shoved Aizawa out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. “You are banned from being a dad today.”
“Okay, okay.” Aizawa yawned again, muffling the sound with his palm as he climbed the stairs. “Good luck, Hitoshi.” He waved absentmindedly at him before vanishing into his room, leaving a sad pitter of kittens at the bottom of the stairs.
With an exasperated sigh, Yamada shuffled back into the kitchen and plastered on a smile, concern easy on his face. Shinsou winced knowing exactly what was to come; his dads were mother hens through and through.
“Let’s sort of this hair, huh?” Yamada said, grabbing hold of Shinsou’s shoulders and guiding him to the living room.
-*-*-*-
After the fifth attempt of driving the brush through the layers of clay and hairspray, Yamada finally managed to wrangle it through Shinsou’s hair. It was a wonder he wasn’t bald.
Eventually, the tugging and straining stopped, and the brush flowed smoothly through the curls, easing the tension in his shoulders.
He didn’t mean to let a content sigh out, nor lean into Yamada. But it was as though every stroke chased away the anxiety rattling inside his head. Yamada only laughed softly as he continued to comb out the product.
“Nervous?”
Shinsou nodded, looking down into his lap from where he sat on the sofa. Yamada was behind him, sitting on the arm of the sofa.
“I’ve been a jerk.”
Yamada titled his head back into position.
“I don’t get why he still wants to be with me.”
“People like Kaminari don’t give up easy.”
“Unless it’s Maths, English, Sci-.”
Yamada bopped the hairbrush against his head.
“You’re diverting the conversation.”
Shinsou let out a large huff and pouted his lips.
“Now that was a big sigh,” Yamada said fondly, ditching the brush and using his fingers instead, scratching gently against Shinsou’s scalp. “‘Toshi, do you really not get why Kaminari likes you?”
“I get why he used to.” Shinsou shrugged.
He could hear Yamada’s eyes roll in his head.
“Well, you didn’t break up with him, did you?” Shinsou shook his head.
“Not really…but kinda. I didn’t say it, but I didn’t want to see him or talk to him. I told him to leave me alone.” He swallowed down the guilt that was thick on his tongue with each word he spoke. His eyes suddenly stung. “I…he got shot because of me. Why would he want to stay?”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“It feels like it was.” Shinsou curled his toes into the sofa.
Aizawa had already talked to him about putting the blame where it really belonged, and that was with Junichiro. Shinsou didn’t pull the trigger, even though he felt as though he might as well have. But despite knowing deep down that it wasn’t truly his fault, he couldn’t get the image of Kaminari’s face when the bullet struck him. The pained bob of his throat, the way his eyes widened and face paled. The sudden sickness that plunged in Shinsou’s stomach watching as the blood spread across Kaminari’s shirt. Sometimes at night, he dreamt that the blood never stopped, drowning them both.
He shuddered as the bloody image popped into his head.
“‘Toshi?” Yamada had stopped petting his hair.
“Sorry,” Shinsou mumbled, using his shoulder to wipe away a stray tear.
Yamada reached forward and guided Shinsou’s head back until he was pressed against his father’s stomach, gently being cradled.
“You don’t have to rush things,” Yamada whispered.
“What if he won’t wait for me?” Shinsou choked back, fighting against the way his throat seemed to constrict.
Yamada turned Shinsou’s head. Bright green eyes stared lovingly down at him, but if Shinsou looked deep enough, there was a lingering of something old and sad in them.
“He will.” He smoothed a thumb under Shinsou’s eye, catching a tear.
“How do you know?”
“I just do.” Yamada leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his hairline.
Shinsou bit his lip to keep a whimper at bay. He was glad that his fathers never sugar-coated anything, and were as blunt as they were honest. It made believing them a little easier. Even when matters seemed juvenile and naïve in nature, the pair never rolled their eyes at his plights. They spoke with such conviction about crushes and teenage nonsense that Shinsou could almost believe they were once teenagers too. Though, the thought of his parents having the same dilemmas as him seemed far-fetched and fabricated. He couldn’t imagine his fathers pining.
“Want me to text him?” Yamada offered a hand.
Shinsou hesitated. His phone suddenly felt heavy in his jean pocket.
“I…” Shinsou sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I think I just need to see it through.”
Yamada’s cheeks bugled as a smile widened on his face.
“Good boy.”
Shinsou tucked his head at the praise.
“And I think we’ve salvaged what we can,” Yamada said, running a hand through Shinsou’s hair. “It’s…”
He didn’t hesitate at Yamada’s lack of words and took himself to the mirror in the living room. He could only stare at the mess on his head. Instead of the rigid spikes, his hair was one mass of frizz.
“I didn’t know it could get worse,” Shinsou whispered to himself as he tugged at a fuzzy piece of hair. It felt rough under his finger.
“It’s not awful.” Yamada came up behind him, trying to smooth out the worst of it.
“I look like a troll doll,” Shinsou pouted before letting his face thunk against the mirror. “If Denki didn’t want to break up with me before, he will when he sees this.”
“Now, now, don’t be dramatic.”
Shinsou glared at his father through the mirror. Yamada simply laughed and once again tried taming his hair.
“I’m sure we have enough time to fix this. When’s Kaminari supposed to be coming?”
And because the universe hated him, and perhaps his life was written like a bad sitcom, the doorbell rang.
“Oh.” Yamada winced. “That’s probably him, huh?”
“Pa! I can’t answer the door like this.” Shinsou hissed.
“Put a hat on it.”
“I can’t wear a hat indoors!”
“Well, you can’t keep the poor kid waiting outside, and there’s nothing you can do to save that mess.”
“You said it didn’t look bad!”
“I was being a good dad, Hitoshi.”
Shinsou wanted to strangle himself and Yamada at the same time.
“Pa, what do I do?” Shinsou whined, sounding too much like Ashido for his own liking, but he couldn’t help the way his stomach rolled, nor the way his heart seemed to beat far too quickly. “I’m gonna be sick.”
“You’re not going to be sick.” Yamada had the audacity to laugh as he rubbed his back. “Go g-.”
“Denki!” A girly voice screamed cheerfully out of sight.
Too preoccupied with Shinsou’s meltdown, neither of them noticed Eri wobbling down the stairs, her shark plush in tow. Nor did they notice her tottering past them and down the hallway towards the front door.
“Hi, Eri, long time no see!” Kaminari’s voice sent Shinsou’s heart into overdrive, his chest twinged with a painful stab.
“What are you doing here?” Eri asked.
“Uh, Hitoshi invited me over to play with the kittens.”
At the sound of his name, Shinsou scrambled for the stairs, throwing himself into his room. He slammed the door behind him and barricaded himself against it, despite no one trying to barge into his room.
Once his pulse stopped beating inside his ears, Shinsou could hear Kaminari through the door and down the stairs. As always, he was loud, but Shinsou couldn’t pick out the words, instead, there was just a buzz of joy and laughter. He yearned to go to it.
But instead, he raced around his room - that he promised to tidy and hadn’t- and tore the place apart looking for his beanie. He had several, but anytime he needed one, they seemed to vanish. The same could be said for his socks.
Throwing every article of clothing he owned over his shoulder and onto the bed, he found what he was looking for.
“Why does the universe hate me?” Shinsou muttered to himself as he slunk onto his bottom and sat crossed-legged, staring at the beanie in his hands. It wasn’t just any beanie. It wasn’t even his. It was bright yellow with a black lightning bolt stitched into the material. It was unmistakably Kaminari’s. He didn’t even remember packing it, nor that he even had it in the first place. He barely remembered Kaminari plopping it on his head, the brim of the beanie blindfolding him briefly before Kaminari slid it back, smiling at him with a big, goofy grin, his golden eyes almost sparking as they glanced at his lips, want easy to see, easy to feel as they both leaned-.
Shinsou shook his head. He didn’t remember borrowing it.
He shoved the beanie onto his head, wrestling his hair under the material. He flipped the brim underneath itself, hiding the lightning bolt from view. It probably looked stupid, but it was far better to look like a bald egg who didn’t know how to wear a beanie properly, than a bad Beetlejuice cosplay.
Braving out from the inner sanctum of his room, Shinsou slowly crept down the stairs. He could hear Yamada chatting away, and Eri’s giggling as Kaminari expertly made himself at home. It was like he slotted into the space Shinsou had left open all those months ago but was too afraid to fill.
He lingered on the last step, watching as Kaminari sat on the floor with his sister, playing with the kittens who were happy to latch and hung from his hoodie. Even Jelly had warmed to him, rubbing her head against his side, desperate for his affection.
It was as though no matter who he was with, he made everyone around him comfortable and warm. Afterall, he cracked through Shinsou’s wall without Shinsou even knowing. He hadn’t even realised until a moment led to Kaminari sitting next to him at lunch, sharing tips on a game Shinsou didn’t even own. And yet, he listened to every word, hanging onto them, hoping he didn’t stop speaking. So much of his life was in silence; it was nice to hear a voice directed at him without fear or violence.
As though Kaminari could sense him, two wide golden eyes popped up and met his. The pair stared; Shinsou swallowed the spit trying to drown him.
“Hey,” Kaminari said, forcing a weak grin on his face.
“Hey,” Shinsou responded, feeling far too out of his depth to know what else to say.
And awkwardness followed them then with neither knowing how to break it.
“Why don’t you two go upstairs, yeah? I’ll make you guys some snacks and call you down when they’re ready?” Yamada said, casting Shinsou an encouraging smile.
There was a flash of fear in Kaminari’s eyes as he snapped his attention to Yamada before looking back to Shinsou, who had yet to get his tongue under his control.
“‘Toshi? You cool with that?” Kaminari asked sheepishly.
All Shinsou could do was nod as he turned around and headed straight to his room. He heard Kaminari follow behind him.
“Sorry for the mess,” Shinsou mumbled as he kicked aside the clothes he had tossed aside. He closed the door behind Kaminari. He didn’t need prying ears listening in.
“It’s cool, my room is the same.” Kaminari made his way over to Shinsou’s bed and sat on the edge as if it was second nature, as if he belonged there. But if Shinsou looked closer, he saw the way Kaminari’s fingers were strangling his hoodie ties, and his foot was constantly tapping on the carpeted floor.
Shinsou stayed standing.
“‘Toshi.” Kaminari tapped the space next to him. “You’re making me nervous just standing there.”
Shinsou let out a breathless chuckle that sounded a little too shaky in his ears.
“You’re making me nervous being in my room.” Shinsou joked, though it fell flat.
“I can leave, I don-.”
“No.” Shinsou closed his eyes and took a calming breath before he sat next to Kaminari. “Stay. Please.”
“Okay.”
Shinsou was conscious of his hand that was so close to Kaminari’s that if he moved his pinkie, they would touch. He took a little comfort that Kaminari’s hands were trembling too.
“Did you see the skateboard downstairs?” Kaminari asked.
Shinsou blinked at him.
“No.”
“Oh, well, my mom got me a new one, so I thought you could have my old one, so we’d both have one.” Kaminari gave him a wisp of a smile. “Might be fun to hit the skatepark together.”
“…Denki-.”
“We can bring Eri, or invite the squad, so it’s not just the two of us!”
“I was just going to say I don’t know how to skate, but I have my bike.”
“I’ll teach you.”
Shinsou let out a barked laugh, that surprised the both of them. Sheepishly, he rubbed the back of his neck.
“I’ve seen you skate. I don’t think you can teach anyone unless they want to learn to fall over.”
“I’ve gotten better!” Kaminari protested. “I’ve had a lot of free time to practise…”
They both winced.
“I didn’t mean-.”
“Nah, it’s okay. I deserve it.”
Another silence fell on them before Kaminari scooted closer, their hands touching. Shinsou lifted his pinkie finger and looped it around Kaminari’s.
“I’m sorry,” Shinsou said.
“You don’t have to be.”
“I still am.”
A flash of electricity buzzed through Shinsou’s fingers and up his arm. It didn’t hurt; he’d been around Kaminari enough not to really feel the static and zaps he gave off. In an odd way, he missed it.
“You’re angry,” Shinsou said, there was no point questioning it.
“I’m annoyed that you’re as stupid as me sometimes.”
“You’re not stupid.”
Kaminari knocked his knee into Shinsou’s.
“Still. You’re stupid.”
“How am I stupid?” Shinsou pulled back with a frown.
“Maybe because you pushed me away all this time because you felt guilty about something that’s, I don’t know, NOT your fault,” Kaminari said in an over-exaggerated voice, waving his arms around like one of those balloon men. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t for the hurt, annoyed look on his face.
“You got shot, Denks. How-.”
“S-T-U-P-I-D!” Kaminari knocked his knuckles against his head, his fist connecting with each letter.
“Stop that!” Shinsou pushed his arm away.
“Hitoshi’s stupid!” Kaminari yelled, trying once again to hit him.
“Denki!” Shinsou grabbed Kaminari’s wrists and pulled them above his head. “Stop whacking me!”
“I will when you stop being stupid,” Kaminari said with a purse of his lips like he was proud of his solution to Shinsou’s guilt.
“Oh my g-. You’re so annoying!” Shinsou wrestled Kaminari’s wiggling fingers away from him. “Why can’t you just be normal?”
Kaminari laughed as he sent a jolt of electricity down Shinsou’s arms.
“You’re the one who asked me out.” Kaminari bobbed his head side to side like a cartoon owl.
And it was like the words sucked all the fight out of him. Shinsou flopped back against the mattress with a sigh. Kaminari crawled into the space next to him, lying on his side, his face only centimetres away from his.
“I don’t blame you,” Kaminari said.
“I don’t understand why you keep coming back.”
“I like-like-like-like you.”
Shinsou rolled his eyes and turned, giving Kaminari a flat look.
“I’m being serious, Denks.”
“So am I.” And true to his word, Kaminari stared at him, his face strict with an intense focus. “I don’t blame you for what happened that day.” He raised his hand, stopping Shinsou before he could interrupt. “But if you want to blame yourself, then I forgive you.”
Shinsou sucked in a gasp before his bottom lip began to wobble. Tears flooded his eyes and ran down his cheeks, sinking into his bed covers.
“Is that what you needed to hear?” Kaminari asked, inching closer, his knees knocking against Shinsou’s.
Shinsou squeezed his eyes shut tight. He didn’t know what he needed, but what Kaminari said seemed to shift something in his chest. It was like he could finally breathe after being underwater the entire time.
“Can I hug you?”
Shinsou sniffled as he opened his eyes, his vision blurry. Kaminari was just a yellow shape in front of him.
“You just hit me, but now you’re asking to hug me?”
“They’re not the same thing.”
A wet chuckle broke from him as he nodded, letting Kaminari’s arms wrap around him. He felt warmer than he had in ages. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, letting Kaminari’s scent waft over him; he didn’t know what brand of deodorant Kaminari used, but there was something soothing about the smell of paint stripper. Kaminari really did use too much of it.
“Hey, you better not be napping down there. I didn’t come over to sleep.”
“m’not,” Shinsou mumbled into Kaminari’s hoodie.
With a disbelieving laugh, Kaminari rolled away from Shinsou, only to push him onto his back. Before he could even groan out a protest, Kaminari was straddling his waist, pushing against his chest in a mocked version of CPR.
“Get up.”
“I’m awake!” Shinsou’s eyes bulged when Kaminari heaved down on his chest. “Ow. Stop.”
“I’m making sure my boyfriend is alive.”
Shinsou shifted up the bed, but Kaminari followed him, flopping down on his chest, his chin resting on the back of his hands that lay on Shinsou’s sternum.
“If you’ll still have me as your boyfriend?” Kaminari asked, looking up with doe-eyes.
“I think I’m the one who’s supposed to ask that.”
“I beat you to it.” Kaminari tilted his head with a soft smile. “I guess we should kiss to make it official.”
A rush of heat hit Shinsou’s cheeks.
“Do you have to be so forward about it?”
Kaminari scrunched up his nose in a way that made Shinsou’s heart skip a beat. It was far too cute.
“I mean, we don’t have to, but it’d be a shame. I’ve missed kissing you.”
“Denki,” Shinsou groaned, darting his eyes away to look anywhere but at Kaminari. He let out a squeak as Kaminari wiggled up his body, so they were only a breath apart. “You’re really close.”
“You kinda have to be to kiss, stupid.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“Prove it.” Kaminari whispered cheekily, his lips on Shinsou’s cheek.
He turned and captured Kaminari’s lips. They were soft as he melted under their touch, sinking into the pillows behind his head. He reached up and ran his fingers through Kaminari’s hair, his fingers tingling at the static in the strands.
He let Kaminari take control as the kiss deepened, feeling lost and giddy all at once. He wanted to let the world vanish and with it all his troubles and nightmares. He wanted to feel Kaminari against him and memories the way his lips touched his.
So, he was confused when Kaminari pulled away, a curious look on his face.
“What?” Shinsou asked, leaning forward, trying to rekindle the kiss. But Kaminari only moved back out of range. “Why did you stop?”
“I was just wondering, what’s with the hat?”
“Are you seriously asking that right now?”
“Well, I’m curious. Who wears a hat indoors? Are you going bald?”
“No, I’m not going bald.” Shinsou rolled his eyes before ripping the hat from his head. He felt his cheeks heat at the wobbly smile on Kaminari’s face. “I wanted to look nice.”
“Is this for me?” Kaminari whispered, the utter joy in his voice genuine as he grinned ear to ear.
“Yeah.” Shinsou pouted.
“I love it.”
“Shut up.” Shinsou leaned forward, and this time Kaminari did too.
The kiss was hungry, messy and altogether naïve, but neither of them cared. They had no other experiences other than with each other, and it didn’t matter to them. All around them were the sounds of busied breaths and rustled sheets.
Shinsou reached for Kaminari’s hips, only for his hands to be taken instead and pushed behind his head. Without pause, Kaminari dipped his head until he was sucking on the space under Shinsou’s jaw, trailing kisses until he nipped at his collarbone, tugging at the collar of Shinsou’s shirt.
A fluttering heat built in Shinsou’s middle until he was sure his jeans were strained. Kaminari made an agreeable mumbling noise, rolling his hips, driving a gasp from Shinsou which he quickly smothered with another deepened kiss.
“D-Denki,” Shinsou whispered, his voice lost through a stutter.
Kaminari only smiled, a wicked grin against his lips as he slipped a hand under Shinsou’s shirt. Shinsou whimpered as static tickled his ribs. He reached forward, his hands desperate for any sort of purchase, the need to tug and pull dulling his senses. His hips jutted up as Kaminari’s fingernails ran down his sides.
“Den-.” His name was on his lips, a half-moan, half-whisper, when the door to his room slammed open.
“Denki!” Eri stood at the doorway, a collection of dolls in her arms.
Shinsou yelped, shoving Kaminari from him and onto the floor, where he landed with a wallop and a thud.
“Daddy says we can all play dolls together!”
Shinsou shoved down his shirt as Kaminari sat himself up, trying to smooth out his hair. Both of their faces were red.
“Eri, Denki’s not here to play with you,” Shinsou hissed.
“Daddy said we should play together.”
“Door open, Hitoshi.” Aizawa’s voice echoed from downstairs.
Shinsou huffed and fell back against the bed.
“Why don’t you go get your tea set and we can have a tea party?” Kaminari suggested with an awkward chuckle.
Eri gasped at the idea, dropping her dolls unceremoniously on the floor, before racing off to her room.
Kaminari climbed onto the bed and sat next to Shinsou’s prone position.
“Guess we got a little carried away.
Shinsou rolled his eyes.
“Can’t believe Dad set Eri on us.”
Kaminari giggled as he fell next to Shinsou and kissed his cheek.
“Next time, we go to my house.”