#oneoniboi

 red eyes pull away from the current wall plug that’s been occupied by seemingly ever class 1-a student but him, and pushes himself up from the table he was at. wandering around books and bodies he makes his way over the blonde sitting by himself against the wall — probably trying to hide from everyone’s hungry phone’s he thinks to himself. if he gives a little hint of a laugh he doesn’t acknowledge it.

Kaminari nestles into the couch, the anticipation growing in his stomach as the killer creeps down the hallway on the screen. He waits for the jump scare to come with held breath, immediately yelping audibly when it finally happens. He had suggested the movie, but he was a big baby when it was actually on. He glances at Bakugou next to him, preferring to focus on his friend rather than the gruesome scene on the screen.

“Can I hold your hand? No shocks. I promise.” He might not be able to keep that promise, but at least he could try. But this was a pretty scary movie.

This was a slasher thriller he’d seen countless times. Bakugo practically had it memorized, could pick out the inaccuracies, and spot the continuity errors by now. Not to say he didn’t still enjoy watching, of course. People screaming in terror always amused him. 

That included people off screen. 

If one looked close enough, they’d notice the slightest twitch of his lip when Denki jumped. Almost a smirk, almost. 

It was without question that he offered his hand, thinking it would be even more hilarious to feel the squeeze and the palm sweat and the racing heart through Kaminari’s fingertips. 

❝ ━━ ✧  a moment to acknowledge, hum of voice over the communications line, before he’s looking forward again. ❛    that means everyone’s in position, then.     ❜ yet another simulated rescue mission with a house full of ‘hostages’, tedious but necessary. he understand the merits of working on a team and quirk-compatibility, but sometimes he’s restless and wants to face the real thing. a foolish, dangerous thought, but it lurks, there.

for now he has to make do with the challenge of facing his other classmates. somewhere nearby the ‘villain’ team lurks, eager to halt their progress.  

          groaaan. shinsou let out a soft moan of groggy alertness as he stretched out in his bed, feeling his muscles tense up and come to life from his feet to his hands as he stretched them out over head.

          he released the breath he had brought in, and drew his arms back down, almost startling himself when he found his arm bumping into his bed companion; a yellow haired mess resting next to him, still snoring away.

          an unintentional hue of red painted its way over shinsou’s half-awake ( more sleepy than usual ! ) face long before he actively registered how flustered he felt. he had forgotten he stayed in denki’s room last night...

          shinsou gradually made the attempt of sitting up, only to be stopped part way. 

          his sweater sleeve was pinned beneath denki now. crap! under his cheek, no less! now he couldn’t go anywhere without waking denki up.

           thank god it was a saturday. shinsou nervously adjusted himself, attempting as carefully as he could to avoid waiting up denki, while also trying to find a more comfortable position for him and his stolen sweater.

           he could have slipped out of it, of course. but that did not pass his mind. in a way, he was forcing the thought away, actively subconsciously enjoying the tender nature of the moment.