image cred: bnha-ramblings
The common room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the TV — left on but muted, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Denki sat curled up at the end of the couch, knees hugged to his chest, a blanket draped over his shoulders. His phone buzzed beside him, but he ignored it. He wasn't in the mood for messages. He wasn't even sure why he was still downstairs.
The soft creak of the door broke the silence, followed by quiet footsteps. Denki didn't look up until he heard the familiar voice.
"Hey... couldn't sleep either?"
Eijirou stood in the doorway, a bag of chips in one hand, a water bottle in the other. His hair was damp from a shower, and he looked tired — but softer than usual. Less armored.
Denki blinked, unsure how to answer. "I guess not," he mumbled.
"Mind if I sit?"
Denki shook his head. Eijirou crossed the room slowly and sank onto the opposite side of the couch, leaving a careful gap between them.
"I brought the honey butter ones. The weird ones you like."
That earned him a quiet, almost invisible smile.
Denki reached out, wordlessly taking the bag of chips. His fingers brushed Eijirou's as he did, just briefly. He didn't pull away.
He opened the bag and pulled out a single chip, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. It looked kind of sad — half-broken, greasy at the edge. Still, he popped it in his mouth and chewed slowly.
"I haven't seen these in the vending machines for weeks," Denki mumbled.
"Had to ask Sato to trade with me," Eijirou replied, leaning back into the couch cushions. "I think I gave up two protein bars and a bottle of melon soda."
Denki gave a tiny snort. "A worthy sacrifice."
Eijirou smiled. "You're worth more than melon soda."
Silence fell between them again, but this time it was softer. Denki ate another chip. The quiet wasn't tense — it was tentative. Like they were both listening to see if it would hold.
After a minute, Eijirou twisted the cap off the water bottle and held it out. Denki hesitated, then took it. Their fingers brushed again, and this time Denki's hand lingered a little longer before pulling away.
He took a sip, swallowed, and gave the bottle back. "Thanks."
"Anytime."
They sat like that for a while — passing the chip bag back and forth, the occasional crunch the only sound in the room. Denki started to relax into the couch, the blanket slipping off his shoulders a little. Eijirou didn't move closer, but his posture shifted — angled more toward Denki than before. Open. Patient.
After several minutes, Denki finally asked, "What's on?"
Eijirou glanced at the TV. "Some late-night cooking show. Guy's trying to make three meals out of canned food and a toaster oven."
Denki hummed. "Sounds cursed."
"Kind of is."
Denki leaned forward to grab the remote and turned the volume up just enough to hear the faint clatter of kitchen utensils and the host's exaggerated commentary.
They both watched for a while, heads tilted, eyebrows raised in collective disbelief as the chef dumped a can of beans onto a slice of white bread.
"That's a crime," Denki said flatly.
YOU ARE READING
Work it Out - KiriKami
FanfictionDenki loved his boyfriend more than anything in the world, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. He couldn't even bring himself to hold hands in public. One day, determined to overcome his fears, he decided to go for it; he held Eijirou's hand in...
