3 am || KiriBaku ||

3:06

3:06 am

The vibration thrums on Kirishima's chest, pulling him out of sleep to a drowsy limbo of half-confusion . The process of having slipped into a dreamless slumber in the first place is lost on him and waking to the ceiling of his U.A dorm room is jarring at first. There's a fog in his head clouding much of his cognitive functions so he struggles his upper body up slightly by his elbows and blankly stares at the ends of his room. Everything is painted in darkness, sucking dry any familiarity of the objects surrounding him.

Annoyingly, no matter how much he tries to blink away the bleariness in his eyes, every silhouette remains as smears. Despite the room never having had a life of its own it still feels like it's been trapped in a lifeless serenity.

His skull begins to hurt, feeling as though it's being squeezed between panels of wood, and his mouth is dry, so dry, it tastes like iron and his tongue feels too big in it. Twisting himself, groping the bedside table-top to see if he had enough wit to pour himself some water before dozing off, his phone slips off his bare stomach and severs a wilting thump onto his carpet.

It's only then he remembers why he'd woken so suddenly.

He attempts to fish it with a limp arm fumbling around blindly to cling fingers around it and only when he becomes irritated does he sit up and reach for it with a drawn groan from himself and the mattress.

In the vacant trance his mind wanders, the text comes as an unsuspecting blow. The screen's glare stings the backs of his eyes and he has to read the line over and over to grasp any meaning in the slew of words.

His surprise comes slow, lurking as he reads over it once more to solidify it in a palpable form only for his drowsiness to splinter and he's slammed into what may as well have been an icy body of water.

electricity wrenches his body up, the swallowing darkness suddenly feels bright, much too bright.

Kacchan: u up?

The last time the name on his phone screen elicited such a reaction felt like an entirely alternate reality. In fact he hadn't received any contact from Katsuki Bakugo other than the mechanic exchanges they forced during school hours and missions.

Kirishima tries to swallow but his mouth has gotten even sandier and his throat narrows the more he forces it down. Upholstered completely now, his fingers work themselves a reply, a command carried to his trembling hands without affirmation from the rest of his body.

You: yea, y?

The three dots that tease the next text seem never ending. Hypnotic almost.